It Came On Fast
by forrealrightnow
Summary: While at a surprisingly fun dinner for her girlfriend's birthday with people she never would have imagined as her closest friends, Santana's father urgently requested that she come to the hospital. Without letting Rachel or anyone know why, she left knowing that the love of her life would be waiting for her no matter what had happened. Part 4 of my Unadulterated Loathing series.
1. Because Nothing Is Wrong

**So, here it is: the fourth and final part to the _not_ discontinued Unadulterated Loathing series that I started what I just realized was almost 3 years ago. I wouldn't have done that to you guys. Believe me, I know how _undeniably_ disappointing it is to have something discontinued on you. Without giving _too_ much away, I would like to say that I'm happy with all of the decisions I've made and have been making on how this one is going to go. I'm also happy that I've waited this long. I finally have the time I need to devote to this and give you all the story you deserve.**

**WARNING: if you've wandered into this without reading the previous three f****ics, you MIGHT be able to read this and get it. You're going to get a completely different story than what I'm intending without reading the previous three. I do think you should go back and read the other ones because it will definitely be easier to follow certain things. Or if you have read the other three and want to go back and refresh, I'm going back and uploading edited versions. UL is already finished.**

**So, without further ado, here's Part 4: It Came On Fast**

* * *

I'm so tired, but I can't sleep.

Whenever I go to sleep, I see her and it's just too much. I know I sound ridiculous and pathetic. I sound like one of those girls that I would think was way too melodramatic and that should just grow up.

But I am grown up. I'm as tall as I'm ever going to be, I'm not a virgin and my heart and my head are in the most pain I've ever experienced in my life. I feel like I've cried myself to the point of dehydration.

While I'll admit that in the last month and a half, things have gotten progressively better. Everything still hurts. Yes, everything.

I seriously thought that movies were absurd. Why on earth were women lying in bed, whining and consuming tubs of ice cream? I get it. There's nothing else to do. After a while you give up trying to call or message anymore. She isn't answering so perhaps it's just space and time that she needs, right? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Unfortunately, that couldn't be more true. I still love her. I love her just as much, if not more than before.

I haven't given up complete hope. I can't.

I've been doing really well. I haven't cried in two days. The last time I slept. It was so vivid, I can still feel it. She was so close and she felt so good.

"_I__'__m sorry I left, beautiful.__"_

"_But you__'__re back,__" __I say with hopeful, teary eyes._

"_I__'__m back,__" __she smiles and kisses me so gently with her perfect lips that I__'__ve missed so much._

_Her hand slips into my shirt and my muscles contract. I inhale sharply and I can smell her hair and her skin.__God, she__'__s intoxicating. It__'__s been so long. Too long._

"_I missed you.__"_

"_I missed you, too, babe,__" __her lips move to that spot behind my ear that turns my insides out and pulls out my want.__ "__Let me show you how much,__" __she whispers, then kisses down my jaw line, up to my lips, then gingerly down my throat, pulling down my shirt to kiss my chest._

_My head nods without my permission.__I shouldn__'__t forgive her this easily.__But her lips burn through my resolve and before I know it neither of us are clothed and her head is between my legs._

_It__'__s like she was never gone.__Her tongue knows exactly where to go, just how much to push, when to pull with her lips.__Her fingers tease circles around my entrance, knowing how much I like it even though I whine telling her I want her inside of me.__I feel her laugh into me.__Somehow, it switches me from on to incredibly on, so when her fingers slide into me the moan that escapes my throat comes from somewhere deep within me.__Her fingers curl, finding that spot she__'__s always been able to find and suddenly I can__'__t control anything.__My mouth says whatever it wants, my hands grab at whatever they can. I__'__m pushing her into me, not caring if she can breathe.__I__'__m so close._

_So close._

"Fuck!"

She's still not here.

When did I fall asleep? Excellent. I have to restart my no crying count and clean up a mess. There are actually stains on her body pillow from my tears. You'd think I'd stop lying here with it considering it's just another reminder of how much this hurts.

So is looking at my phone and seeing no messages from her.

Since it's suddenly day time, I call Kurt like I have every day since camp ended:

"Hey," I can hear him smiling.

"Hi," I sigh unable to mask the fact that I've been crying.

"You had the dream again..."

"I just want it to go away! Why won't it stop?" How can I possibly have anything left in my eyes?

I hear him sigh into the receiver and I know he's going to say something I'm going to hate. "Because you don't want it to go away."

"Yes I do!" I shout into the phone. I'm not a masochist. "You think I like waking up being painfully aroused by a dream about my girlfriend going down on me?"

"She isn't your girlfr-"

"We didn't break up! The words 'I'm breaking up with you' never came out of her mouth," now I'm pretty much screaming at him. I don't know why.

"Rachel, she didn't say _anything_to you! Her father told you what happened and you haven't seen or heard from them since! You aren't together anymore," he's been trying to convince me of this for weeks.

"She's going to come back," I say softly through the painful pressure in my throat.

"And that's why that dream won't stop. As long as you think she's just going to show up at your door one day on her knees begging for your forgiveness, that dream isn't going anywhere," he sounds so hopeless. I can't tell if it's for me or for my wish. It's probably both. "You should get out of bed," his voice is more certain this time.

"I know. I planned on it. I have to pee," I laugh a little. Just a little.

"Oh good, you're consuming liquids," Kurt knows very well that I'm eating. It's very little, but I'm eating nonetheless.

"And other things," I roll my eyes as I sit up and turn myself so that my feet are planted on the floor.

"Mhm," he hums not fully convinced, "You should come out with Mercedes and me today. We're going to the mall and then probably a movie."

"Can't you guys come here?" I ask knowing exactly what he's going to say to me.

"You need to get out of your house!"

I knew that was coming.

"I know," I answer, straightening out my legs so that I'm standing.

"I'll call you in a couple of hours okay, hun?" Kurt says with his appreciated concerned best friend tone.

"Promise?" I ask knowing full well that he's going to say:

"Promise," he says through an audible smile, "Later, Rach."

"Later."

The bathroom is so far away from my bed.

Wait, did I really just think that? What is wrong with me? My bathroom is right across the hall! It's twelve steps away from my bed! Just get up and go, then go downstairs and eat something. Then come back up, shower, get dressed and go out with your friends that love you and want you to be happy.

It seems so easy.

It is easy.

Before I even know it I'm in the hallway making my way to the stairs. I stop as soon as I hear Daddy's voice, though.

"And you? How are you doing?" his voice is low, but loud enough so that I can hear him without having to sneak down the stairs, "And the new hospital is good?"

Oh my god! He's talking to Cris! I can't breathe. Oxygen and my lungs are not getting along at the moment.

"She's... she'll be okay. She's always been strong... I know, but there's nothing we can do for them besides be there."

They're talking about us. _Us_.

When did I start crying?

"Talk to you soon... okay... bye, Cris."

He was talking to her father, about us. He must have asked about her! Aaaauugh! If only I'd gotten my act together a minute sooner! I would have heard! It only would have been one side, but at least I would have been able to ascertain how she was doing through the tone in Daddy's voice.

I'm going downstairs. I _will_ ask Daddy about Santana and he's going to tell me.

Okay, here I go... down the stairs... right now...

Except that I can't.

What if she's doing really well? Like, she's going out and sleeping with other people because _they_ don't make her think of things she doesn't want to think about.

No. That's dumb. She wouldn't tell her father that.

That doesn't mean that isn't what she's doing, though.

Oh, shut up!

You are Rachel Barbara Berry. No one but you defines you. Daddy is absolutely correct: You are strong.

Tomorrow you're going to go to school and march in there like nothing is wrong. Because nothing is wrong.

And today you're going to the mall with your friends because nothing is wrong.

And right now, you're going to go downstairs and have breakfast with your father because that's what you do when nothing is wrong. Then you're going to nonchalantly ask him who he was talking to and try as hard as you can not to lose it if he tells you the truth.

Just go downstairs.

Finally, I'm listening to myself and my legs are taking me down to the kitchen.

Daddy's sitting at the island reading the newspaper.

"Good morning, Daddy," I actually smile as I walk towards the refrigerator.

He swings around quickly on the stool and smiles big at me, "Now that I'm seeing my babygirl's beautiful face, it is a good morning."

"Daddy," I look at the floor and shake my head.

"What? I can't tell you you're beautiful anymore?" he scoffs at me and I can't stop the foolish giggle that comes out of my throat.

"Of course you can-"

"Good! Because that's part of my job as Dad Number One," he winks at me and I giggle again.

"I don't think Papa would appreciate being Dad Number Two," I smirk at him, then turn back into the fridge to take out the soy milk.

"I know honey, that's why we don't tell him," he smiles, "I made some 'not eggs' if you want some."

"I would love some," I smile at him again but this time feel this awful tug at my throat. I don't know where this is coming from. It was swallowed at the top of the stairs. His phone is on the counter. I turn around and catch him watching me. The smile on his face disappears as soon as he sees that mine has completely washed away and left behind the expression he's been seeing for far too long now.

"Babygirl-"

"How is she?"

"Rachel-"

"You were talking to Cris. I know you asked him. How is she? Please, Daddy! I'm going to see her tomorrow. I need to be prepared!" it sounds ridiculous, but it's far too true.

My eyes are closed tight attempting to keep these tears locked in their ducts and I hear him take a deep breath through his nose, then expel it back out the way it came in.

"He said she's still barely speaking to him, but her sentences have gotten longer," he says slowly. I can't help but feel like he's trying to spare me from something.

"Is that all he said?" I choke out through the lump in my throat.

"And..." he exhales heavily.

"And what?" my eyes shoot open, anticipation causing my heart to begin thumping violently against my chest.

"And she's been talking to Brittany... and Quinn-"

"WHAT?" my eyes open wide and after I form the 't' sound, my mouth pops back open in what I'm sure is an unbecoming look of shock.

I stopped asking them about her a few weeks ago. She hadn't even been speaking to them.

I wish knowing that she had shut out everyone made me feel better.

It doesn't, by the way.

"I guess one day they just showed up and held an intervention or something," Daddy says with puzzled, furrowed eyebrows.

Of course they did that. I'm sure it was all Brittany's idea. She really is a lot smarter than she let's people give her credit for.

"That's all he told me, though. I didn't want to pry too much, you know? He's hurting, too," he reminds me.

"I know, Daddy..."

"I can't even imagine how he feels..."

"I don't want to imagine how she feels..." I exhale heavily as I do exactly what I just said I didn't want, because I wish I knew. I wish she stayed to tell me. I wish I could be there to hold her while she cried, because I know she did. I would have been there for her, because she needed me.

But she left.

She left to be alone and deal with it all on her own.

Now I need to talk to Brittany and Quinn.

"Think you're ready for school tomorrow?" Daddy pops into my bubble of thought. I have this weird feeling he had said something before that, but I wasn't present for it.

"Um, I could use a few things," I say hoping that's what he meant.

"I didn't mean material-wise," his eyes hone in on me and I know I have to answer. This is what we do in the Berry home. We talk about what we're feeling.

I bite down on my lip and take my time with answering. I know I'm not going to escape answering, but I should at least sit down.

"I kind of have to be," I settle on saying, because it's true.

"I know," he breathes out in this half sigh, half laugh, "School will be good for you. It'll be distracting. There's a lot of stuff to concentrate on. Mostly college." He gives me another wink and a smile.

"I think I have classes with her," of course that's all _I_ can think about.

"But you didn't last year," he says probably thinking that justifies us not having any together this year.

But alas, "They finally realized how smart she is and Miss Pillsbury convinced her to take AP classes."

"Yeah, but-"

"English and History," I confirm what he was going to retort.

"There aren't more than one of each?" he winces, stabbing in the dark.

"Daddy, there are like, a hundred-fifty kids in our class. No, there aren't more than one of each," I sigh. At least I'm not crying about it.

I'm not crying about it because I'm happy about it. I'll see her. It's going to be murderous, but I'm going to be able to see her nonetheless. It actually makes going to school that much better... and worse. So maybe I am a little masochistic. Oh well.

"It'll be fine, babygirl," he assures me. He doesn't know that he doesn't have to.

"I know, Daddy," suddenly I'm in the mood to tell him that I actually have plans for the day, "Hey! Kurt invited me to go to the mall and a movie with him and Mercedes."

"I hope you were nicer this time when you told him 'no,'" he playfully scolds me.

After giving him my 'I can't believe you just said that to me' scowl, I answer, "Actually, I said 'yes.' Well, I haven't _yet_, but I'm going."

"Oh thank god! I thought I was going to have to throw you out of here!" Daddy jokes. I know he wouldn't have done that. Both he and Papa have been really great and supportive for nearly two months.

I roll my eyes at him for good measure, though and bring my dish to the sink. "I'm going to go shower and get ready. Can we um... hang out before I go?" I ask a little awkwardly because I haven't done that in a long time. Just hang out with my Dads.

"Of course, babygirl," he smiles and kisses my forehead.

"I love you," I don't fight my urge throw my arms around him and as soon as my face hits his chest, I melt right into him. He smells like safety. I know that safety isn't something that carries an odor, but when I breathe in, that's how I feel: safe.

"I love you, too, babygirl," I feel his chin land softly on my head, "I love you, too."

* * *

**I know, super ****angsty and depressing. I'm also hoping that you were surprised... actually, I'm sure you were. No regrets. I'm doing my best at writing this. Just know that I want to get this out here for all of you. I'm still not sure if I was actually ready to post this since chapter 3 isn't finished yet, but it's my birthday and I figured I'd give out a gift like retailers have sales. Haha. I can't wait to hear from you all, attention whore and all.**


	2. Eggshells

"I have to talk to Brittany or Quinn. Actually, probably just Quinn. Brittany might make me confused, which as you know, doesn't happen very often, but Brittany can do that sometimes."

Kurt and Mercedes are looking at me like I was just speaking Hebrew at them.

"I'm calling Quinn," I say slowly and in summation of what I just said to them.

"Oh, we got that," Kurt says looking briefly at Mercedes.

"We're wondering why?" she finishes for him.

I exhale and try to hide the smile that's attempting to sneak onto my lips, "Santana started talking to them again."

They both shake their heads and sigh, turn back to look at the front of the car, then turn back to me with their faces saying "really?" without actually saying it.

"I have to," I say as I pull out my phone. Before they can try to convince me otherwise, I scoot out of the car, slam the door and queue up Quinn's number.

"Rachel, wait!"

Kurt's too late.

It's ringing.

"Rachel?"

I duck past Mercedes and shuffle to the other side of the car.

"Hi, Mom," I hear Quinn's voice in my ear once the ringing stops.

That's strange.

"Um, Quinn, I know you don't have the 'smartest' phone, but I know you have caller ID," I say with as much perplexity as I'm experiencing.

"Can we talk about this when I get home, Mom? I'm still with Brittany and Santana."

Oh.

Oh my god.

It's just echoing in my brain. Her name just keeps bouncing through the mess that's been my mind.

"I promise we can talk later, okay?"

Oh, I haven't said anything.

Oops, "Yeah, that's great! Thanks, Quinn. Good bye."

"Later, bye."

"Satisfied?" Kurt asks with his arms across his chest and his hip popped out.

"Yes," I answer with my biggest smile.

"Good," Mercedes steps forward and links her arm into mine, "I'll be strangely honest: I missed that smile."

Kurt takes my other arm and they start walking us towards the mall entrance.

I'm suddenly feeling quite happy to be out. I haven't seen people in a while. I mean, other people that aren't my fathers and Kurt... and all those kids from camp. Okay, so I've seen a lot of people actually, but I mean normal people. Not theatre people. Theatre people are... different. I love them and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with them, but normalcy will need to be in my life simultaneously.

"Mmm... didn't you miss the smell of credit card debt and recession?" Kurt says through this weird, familiar smile after he inhales deeply through his nose.

"Not as much as I missed being with my friends," I say only realizing now that I truly did.

"Aw, we're glad you decided to leave your Cave of Sorrows, too," Mercedes squeezes my arm against her and I furrow my brows, not entirely pleased with her calling my room a cave.

"Where to first?" I ask before I can dwell on it.

I can practically hear Kurt thinking and then, "I need to find a 'please transfer to McKinley' gift for Blaine!"

"You're ridiculous," Mercedes rolls her eyes.

"I think I might have to agree," besides, what kind of gift says 'Please leave your no tolerance for bullying school for my still horrendously intolerant one?'

"Oh I'll find this gift, you two non-believers wait," he says determined and starts steering us through the crowds towards who knows where. "There has to be a bow tie somewhere that will do it."

"Hell to the _no_, you are not buying that boy another bow tie! He has too many! _One_ is too many," Mercedes has stopped all of us and is staring Kurt down, "Don't buy him hair gel either."

"Why would I buy him hair gel?" Kurt scowls and I almost can't stand I am laughing so hard, "And what do you think is so funny?"

"Everything!"

Everything is funny. I think I'm delirious from the change in atmosphere.

"Great, now she's crazy," I hear Mercedes say and just to prove her right, I keep laughing and slide down the glass that prevents people from stepping off the second floor and falling to the first.

"She's fine," Kurt says and I feel something moving next to me. I look through my watery eyes and see his cranberry blazer at eye level. A second later I feel Mercedes on my other side, "I think she needs this."

"I can't believe she's sitting on the floor in the mall. This has to be on the list of things Rachel Berry would never ever do," Mercedes leans forward to look at Kurt when she's speaking as if I can't hear her.

"It is," I say as best I can through my still heavy laughter, "And I do need this!"

"Then we will sit here with you until it's out," Kurt says to me and covers my hand with his.

"We will," Mercedes covers my other hand.

It's not letting up. I seriously cannot stop laughing. At this point there is nothing in particular to laugh at. It's just coming out of me. And I don't even care that everyone passing by probably thinks I'm absolutely insane.

I don't know why, but as I'm still laughing harder than I think I ever have, I let my eyes wander up a pair of toned, tan legs that have stopped approximately twenty feet away from us. Then I hear it. It's muffled but it still carries all the way over to my ears.

"Santana...?"

My laughter completely halts and my head shoots up. I'm pretty sure my heart ceased to function as my eyes meet with hers. They're so sad and tired and all I can do is wish that I could have been there this whole time.

But she shut me out.

All I can think of doing right now is jumping up and wrapping my arms around her. That's what my instinct is telling me, but I'm completely paralyzed by the sight of her in front of me. I wish I knew what she was thinking. I wish she knew what I'm thinking. Because if she did, would she still be standing there or would she be walking towards me?

Before I can even realize it's happening, my vision becomes blurry. I'm crying. In public. Actually crying. While this isn't nearly my first time crying in a public forum, it's the first time I've ever felt this crippled by a sobbing fit in front of an audience.

I don't see Quinn and Brittany usher her away. I don't even hear Kurt and Mercedes helping me up and guiding me towards the restroom in the opposite direction. Really the first thing I hear is my own heavy inhale echoing in the "family restroom" that all three of us are in.

"I knew we should have called one of them first," Mercedes lightly backhands Kurt's shoulder.

"That goes on the list of things that are not important right now," Kurt snarks back and turns to me, bringing his hands to my cheeks and his thumbs under my eyes, he pouts, "she looked awful."

"You know as well as I do that she didn't," I choke out.

"It was worth a shot," he smiles with one side of his lips.

"We're sorry-"

"Stop," I close my eyes and hold up my hand, interrupting Mercedes, "I'm fine. Actually," I take a breath because I feel as though my lungs are need of it and as I let it out, a smile creeps onto my lips, "I'm happy I saw her. That was the first time since the services."

I'm met with partially shocked expressions from both of them.

"Don't get me wrong, it really aches, but seeing her out leads me to believe that things are getting better for her and maybe..." I let my thought trail away. Perhaps it's the superstitious side to me that I try to keep hidden, but I feel as though saying that seeing her getting better gives me hope for us could be a complete and utter jinx. The last thing I need are for external forces to come swooping in and ruining all that could be. It's bad enough that I have to use the phrase "could be."

"So, what do you want to do now?" Kurt questions, eyeing me through the mirror.

"Well," I turn, satisfied that a crying fit isn't still completely evident on my face, "if I'm not mistaken, someone has a 'please transfer because you love me' gift to find."

"Yes!" Kurt squeals and claps simultaneously.

"Girl, you just had to make him do that," Mercedes rolls her eyes then wraps her fingers around the door handle.

"His excitement is refreshing," I say with a heavier than usual exhale.

"We really needed to get you out sooner," Kurt deadpans, looking back at me as he walks through the door and past an actual family waiting for the restroom.

"Sorry," I mumble as I pass them.

"Forget the gift," Kurt turns stopping us all dead in our tracks, "we're finding the dumbest movie in the theatre and seeing it. No arguments. You need something mindless."

"Mindless," I repeat because it sounds... peaceful and simple, things I haven't experienced in quite some time.

~:~:~

"Hi, honey," Papa greets me from the stairs as I walk in, "how was the world outside?"

"Smaller than I remember," I reply, referring to the encounter without actually having to say anything about it. I make sure to wear a smile though, if I can't fool my father, I won't fool anyone.

For a moment, I think he's going to ask me what I mean and I can feel my heart leap into my throat. I just can't right now. If he asks, I have to talk about seeing her and I still feel so good from the events that took place after _the_ event. His pensive regard disappears and my heart stops pounding, leaving me with a ghost of its heaviness in my chest. He smiles sadly then points to the kitchen with his thumb, "Your dad made eggplant cacciatore."

Suddenly the intoxicating smell of one of my favorite meals wafts into my olfactory, "It smells like heaven."

I start for the kitchen and as I do, I sense Papa following me. It makes me a little uneasy because he could still ask.

"It might be his best one yet," I hear him chuckle behind me.

I turn as I'm walking through the doorway to the kitchen, "You say that every time… and for everything Daddy cooks."

"Well, everything always gets better!" he smiles, then I see him look beyond me. I turn back and see that Daddy's now in the kitchen.

Excellent. Double the opportunity for them to ask me about the mall.

Hold on a moment; I don't have to say anything about it. If they ask me about what happened at the mall, I can tell what we did. Leaving something out doesn't equate lying.

God! What is wrong with me? I'm bargaining with myself over talking to my fathers about something. I tell them everything. I simply don't think I can relive seeing Sa- I can't even think her name right now let alone _tell_ them out loud that I saw her.

I saw her.

Oh god.

"You know-"

And the doorbell interrupts the announcement of my loss of appetite.

I'd say, 'saved by the bell,' but I don't know if that's true.

"Were we expecting someone?" Daddy asks Papa and me as he wipes his hands with a dish towel. After we both shake our heads and shrug our shoulders, he crosses the kitchen then exits it to get the door.

"What did you want to say before, honey?" Papa's hand lands on my shoulder and a plate full of eggplant cacciatore slides in front of me. I was so lost in my internal monologue, I didn't even notice he was making me a plate.

"I…" well, now that it's in front of me and it smells so good, "nothing. Thanks, Papa."

"Rachel," I hear Daddy at the kitchen doorway, but I can't turn to him with my fork in my mouth, "it's for you."

I have no idea who it could be. Well, I know who it isn't… no matter, I'd like to not have a mouthful of pasta when I turn to greet whoever it is… or tomato sauce on my face. I chew as quickly as I can without choking and wipe at my lips with a napkin simultaneously, then turn on my stool towards the doorway.

"Quinn."

"Hey, Rachel," she stands awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen, holding her arm at her elbow and looking between Daddy, Papa and me.

"Umm…" Papa pipes in from his corner of the kitchen, "Leroy and I have something… upstairs…"

"Right!" Daddy claps his hands together and smiles, "Up we go. It's wonderful seeing you Quinn."

"Yes, very!" Papa chimes from the bottom of the stairs that he clearly sprinted to.

"It's great to see you, too, Mister…s Berry," Quinn's lips twist and I can see her internally berate herself.

Daddy smiles at her, "If you're hungry, Quinn, there's still some leftover pasta. I just put it away so it's still warm."

"Thank you, Mr-" this time Daddy gives her a look and she catches herself, "Leroy."

"Anytime, Quinn. Stay as long as you like… just not too late, it is a school night," he smiles, clearly amused by himself.

"Okay, Daddy," I verbally shoo him away because _I_ know why Quinn is here. I didn't expect her to show up here to talk about this. Perhaps I might have actually preferred a phone call. You can hear everything that goes on downstairs from the upstairs.

"That looks really good," Quinn has crept a little further into the kitchen, far enough that she can see what's on the plate next to me.

"Do you want some? Daddy's a culinary genius," I laugh lightly and hop off of my stool in preparation for Quinn to agree a plate.

She seems to have a a debate about it, but eventually she nods and says, "Maybe just a little."

I go to the refrigerator and grab the only container that could possibly have the leftovers in it. "There's actually only a little left," I hold out the open container to her showing her the small amount of pasta smothered in what was left of the eggplant sauce.

"That's perfect," she nods and shoves her hands awkwardly into her shorts' pockets.

"It is still warm," I say feeling the awkward tension somehow get thicker, "want it straight up or in a plate?"

She laughs a little at my poor attempt at humor, but it cuts into the tension slightly and I am greatly appreciative, "Straight up is fine."

I grab a fork from the utensil drawer and hand it to her along with the container. I go back to my seat at the island and wait for her to join me before I start shifting the pasta on my plate. Because now my appetite really is gone. I'm far too anxious to talk to her about… her. I wait another three fruitless twirls of the pasta on my plate before I start, "How's RJ?"

That's not what I wanted to ask.

"She's great. She's been working a lot but I see her more now that camp is over…"

She lets her sentence fray away, probably hearing back what she'd just said and stopping for my sake. Except I wish she wouldn't.

"So you guys are doing well?" I ask genuinely interested. I've been living vicariously through Kurt and Blaine's relationship, it'd be nice to hear about something different.

"Yes," she answers tentatively and it is so frustrating. How can I possibly get myself through this if everyone around me walks on eggshells all the time?

"Quinn, I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't genuinely interested. I haven't seen RJ since FAME ended."

I think she's finally getting it because she smiles and says, "Well, the only people she's really seen since then are the people at the Lima Bean, her parents and me." Then this pink tint appears in her cheeks and I immediately know what she's thinking about.

"So you got over some… things?" I ask remembering how nervous she was about a potential sexual encounter with RJ before they'd even gone on their first date. But of course that brings me back to that night so my thoughts immediately turn to Santana.

This is why people walk on eggshells around me.

Quinn must see it, "Umm… yeah…" then that trails off and we're left with another bout of awkwardness.

I turn to my plate and get a few bites down before I turn back to her, "I-"

"I'm-"

"Go ahead," I offer up the floor to Quinn because the last time I spoke, I asked a question I didn't _really_ want to.

"I'm sorry that I had to be so… short with you when you called earlier," she curls her hair behind her ear as she looks over to me.

"It's okay. I completely understood why," I say nervously. I really wish my nerves would get ahold of themselves. It's just a conversation. I'm just going to talk to my friend about how my… I don't even know what she is… what we are…

Before that thought can completely overwhelm me, Quinn says, "She's talked about you."

"What?" that's all I can get out before my lungs fail me completely.

"I figured out of all the things I could tell you, that was the thing you wanted to hear the most," she exhales then bites down nervously on her bottom lip.

That _is_ what I wanted to hear, but I'm not sure it's what I wanted to hear _first_. She could have eased into it and told me how she was doing. No. Instead she tells me immediately that she's been talking about me… but she can't talk _to_ me. Maybe I'd rather not have learned that she's talking about me.

"But she can't talk _to_ me?" I wince a little in preparation for Quinn's answer because I already know what it is.

"Not yet," she responds with sadness laced in her voice, "she just… when she thinks about you, she thinks about her mother and while it's gotten better, she just breaks down. Brittany and I had to talk her down after she saw you."

"What? Quinn, that doesn't even make sense," I say without thinking about it, because it doesn't.

I can suddenly read the conflict on Quinn's face as clearly as a _New York Times_ headline. Her lips twist and it seems like she's trying to find the right words to say whatever it is that's in her head. Then she exhales, "She doesn't blame you for anything. Not even remotely, but when she thinks about you, she thinks about the fights and how things were left with her mother before she…"

"Oh my god," I'm vaguely aware that my hand has lifted up to my mouth because all that's flashing through my mind is every experience I'd ever had with Santana and her mother and how poorly most of them ended. It was all because her mother _hated_ that Santana was with me. It never even crossed my mind that _this_ could be the reason why she couldn't speak to me let alone see me. This new information does nothing to fill the emptiness that I'm still left with, if anything it makes it all worse. I can't do anything. I can't fix something that I never had any control over. Then the thought that in this entire month and a half I'd refused to let settle in my mind, roots itself, "It's over."

"I don't think that's true-"

"How? I can't do anything about this!"

"It's getting better. If you just wait-"

"What if it _never_ _actually_ gets better? I love her, Quinn, but I've spent nearly two months in this horrendous cloud of sorrow _waiting_ for her to just send me a text message. I've gotten nothing! I haven't done anything wrong! All I want to do is be there for her but she doesn't want me around. She didn't even acknowledge me at her mother's services! I know it might sound selfish, but it fucking hurts. I'm not sure I can wait around for her after how much she's hurt me," I know I shouldn't be, but I'm so angry at Santana right now. I know life isn't fair, but love should be.

"Rachel-"

"I know!" the last thing I need right now is some sort of calm down turned lecture from Quinn, "I know that her mother died and I have no idea what that's like, but I could know, because she could have told me. We could have worked through this together. Instead she shut me out completely. She couldn't even tell me herself what had happened. She had her father do it," I exhale out as much of the tension I can because it's starting to hurt my chest, "I just can't keep existing like this anymore. I've been in limbo all summer and starting tomorrow I'm going to see her everyday and I don't even know how to act around her."

"Ignore her," Quinn states simply.

Except that wasn't really a simple answer, "What?"

"Let her know how angry you are at her. I don't think it's selfish for you to be angry with her; not at this point at least. She really hasn't even sent you a single text message?" Quinn frowns at the prospect.

"Nothing," I say, barely opening my mouth.

"And I know you tried to talk to her in the beginning," she rolls her eyes at herself, "I swiped her phone during our intervention. I saw all of the missed calls and texts."

She's right. I tried. I let her know that I was there for her and she's let all this time pass by without even breathing a single word to me. Maybe Kurt's been right this whole time. She isn't going to come to my door begging for me to forgive her.

I think I'm okay with knowing that. Finally. I mean, I still feel like something is missing, but I don't feel like I'll be entering into my own personal Hell at school tomorrow.

That's it. Tomorrow, no matter how much I want to walk up to her attempt to erase all that's happened… and subsequently hasn't happened this summer, I won't. I won't even give her the time of day.

Santana Lopez, who?

* * *

**A/N: Look at this! A week later! So, _I'm_ happy with the way this is going. I'm also 2 chapters ahead of you... well, technically more than that because I have actually taken some notes. Don't be nervous. I think you're gonna like this.**


	3. Lost in the Echo

Santana Lopez the Invisible, that's who.

Mercedes texted me in the morning to tell me that Santana wasn't in homeroom. That didn't really mean anything though because there were a number of places she could have been instead. Like Miss Pillsbury's office asking to have her classes changed. Or in Coach Sylvester's office asking about rejoining the squad. Or maybe she just didn't feel like going to homeroom and got Mr. Schue to vouch for her.

I didn't see her in the hallways on my way to AP English. I thought maybe she'd be there when I walked in the room. The only people in the room when I got there were Mike and Mr. Lincoln. Then I waited out the excruciating three more minutes of passing time as everyone in the class _but_ Santana walked into the room. Five minutes into the class, Quinn passed me a note:

_Hey,_

_Santana isn't coming today. She might be here tomorrow, but she has waived absences for the rest of the week. I'm sorry. Except that you're not supposed to care anymore, remember? Just thought I'd remind you._

_Q_

She was absolutely right. I wasn't supposed to care, except that I thought about her all day. I was worried about her all day. If I'm this way when she isn't in school, how the hell am I going to pretend she doesn't exist when she _is_ in school?

I'll find out today, five days later.

Turns out she took the school up on all three of the waived days. Quinn took all of the work she's already missed.

It should have been me.

UGH! Stop that!

_That_ is exactly what I need to stop thinking in order for this to be successful. She _needs_ to know that she hurt someone else in all of this. I think I just need to convince myself that I'm not being selfish. Because in the back of my mind I'm constantly reminded that her mother died and how can I possibly think of myself in all of this?

Because I'm all I've been around. Because I know how I feel and I have not a single clue as to how she feels besides associating me with the downturn her relationship with her mother took. If she'd just spoken to me once, I don't think I'd feel as awful as I have for what's been a month and three weeks now. She did this to me and even if it wasn't out of malicious intent, she needs to know that her actions, or lack there of, have had repercussions.

I _will not_ actively pursue her attention and I'm not waiting for her anymore. I have to live my life. I have _a lot_ to concentrate on. Letting this dictate my life is no longer an option.

I think I've been sitting in my car for long enough, staring at the school. I _know_ she's here today because I can see her car. It's right in between Brittany's Sentra and Quinn's Beetle. I grab my bag off of the passenger seat and hug it against my chest as I brace myself for whatever is waiting for me in that building. After I take few more breaths, I push open the door and step out of my car.

The walk across the parking lot from Senior Row to the doors of the school feels like it lasts forever, but when I glance at my phone before walking through the doors, I see that it's only been a minute. In order to avoid getting jostled by the flow of traffic, I have to keep moving through the doors into the hallway. The crowd around me disperses, having different destinations once they're through the doors. I look around quickly before continuing forward, just to make sure I can't be surprised by anything. As I move forward and around the corner to my locker, I keep my eyes moving. Somehow I manage to get there unscathed.

Homeroom. English. Calculus. Astronomy. Photography. Lunch. History. Glee. Home.

That's the day. I just need my English and Calculus things now and I can stop back here before Astronomy.

Okay.

Homeroom.

I close my locker once I'm satisfied that I have everything I need. I turn towards the classroom my homeroom is in before I look up from my bag. My first mistake of the day. There she is. Her locker is diagonally across from mine. I'm lucky enough that she's still facing hers, giving me enough time to gather myself… and to look at her. She's so thin and… broken. This is the closest I've been to her in the longest month and three weeks of my life.

"Hey, Rachel," I hear Finn's voice to my left but I don't look towards it. Instead, I keep my eyes on her because I know she heard my name. She stopped pulling the books that Quinn had probably delivered to her out of her bag and stayed there frozen, staring into her locker.

"Hi, Finn," I respond letting my eyes linger on Santana for a just a second longer before turning to him.

"Hey," he smiles his doofy, yet charming smile, "I was just wondering…" his eyes shift to his left, clearly spotting Santana, then he lowers his voice, "… oh, this is kind of awkward."

I turn my head back a little and catch Santana watching us from the corner of my eye. "No it isn't," I say with as much defiance as I can muster as I turn back to Finn and loud enough that she'll know that _I_ know she's listening, "what's up Finn?"

"Ookaaay…" he looks over towards Santana again and then slowly back to me, "I was just wondering if you might want to start looking for songs for Glee Club. I think we should start early if we want to be ready for Nationals this year… and I really feel like I have a lot to make up for."

"That is a great idea, Finn. I'd love to," I answer. It is a good idea considering we usually choose our songs extremely last minute and our track record with that plan is a losing one.

"Cool! You have third lunch right?" he asks with excitement and that same smile that made me swoon for some reason two years ago.

"I do," I answer and no sooner is it out of my mouth that I hear a locker door slam not far behind me.

"Okay," he starts backing away, "see you then in the choir room?"

"Sure."

I watch him turn and walk away before I turn to go to my own homeroom, which probably starts really soon.

I wasn't expecting her to still be there. I guess I had just assumed she walked away after she slammed her locker. My second mistake of the day. She was just standing there staring at me with all of this sadness. Not that it's a cure, but all I could think about doing was kissing it all away. For a millisecond, I thought my legs were going to take me to her and abandon my resolve to move along.

This time, I really am saved by the bell. It's the last one before we're marked late to school. While I might not get perfect attendance for all four years of high school, that doesn't mean I can't have it for my senior year. Finding that resolve, I lift my head a little and press my lips tightly together before sharply turning my body away from her.

I have nothing to say to her anyways.

I don't turn to look at her as I walk away, but I know she's still staring at me. I can feel her gaze on my back and it makes me burn inside. I don't know why it makes me so angry, but I'm practically boiling. If I turn back to look, it will give her the satisfaction of knowing I care that she's looking at me. I won't give that to her, because how dare she. How dare she think after all of this she can just abuse what we have... had. She knows she has the power to make me do anything for her. Unless everything about our relationship has been completely one-sided, a theory that with my entire heart I cannot believe, we're carrying the same artillery into this. I've got just as much over her as she does over me. And if I'm right, it killed her that I didn't turn back to look at her.

~:~:~

For I think the first time in my academic career, I'm ecstatic that my last name begins with a B. Mr. McSherry has seated his AP European History class in alphabetical order, going from left to right. This puts me in the front of the classroom. More importantly, it puts me in a position in which I am unable to see Santana, whose L last name always puts her in the middle, even when a teacher thinks they're clever and starts the alphabet in the back. While I'm sure she's looking at me, I'm not going to turn back to her. I know where she is. Her name landed her in the first seat in the third row. I found that out on the first day.

I'm a little surprised she didn't try to switch out of this class. Miss Pillsbury mustn't have been able to shift her schedule or something.

Or she didn't even try to change it.

Stop thinking about her!

I tune back into our discussion of the first Anglo-Saxons in England and resume my note taking.

"The United Kingdom as we know it now, of course, is made up of England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland _and_ I'm sure you're all aware that at one point, Great Britain was _the_ most powerful nation in the world. Of course it wasn't always like that," Mr. McSherry reminded us all of our World History lessons from last year.

"Well, the Romans were in charge of them for a while."

My pen stills and my eyes close as I slowly draw in oxygen through my mouth. That was the first time I've heard her voice since my birthday dinner.

"You're absolutely right Santana, however, that's a little bit before this. The Romans got themselves out of England somewhere around Four Hundred. I'm saying somewhere around then, because let's be serious folks, it's not like the Emperor could just hop on Twitter and tell everyone to get their butts out," cue laughter from almost everyone.

I'm a little too lost in the echo of Santana's voice ringing in my head.

"But when they left, they took the ruling government and the money with them, which would have left all of the mini-countries to fend for themselves… and against themselves."

That was her again. Is it weird that I think the knowledge she's throwing out there is _really_ hot?

God, how can I possibly get over her?

"Exactly! Perfect segue, Santana! I'm glad you're here with us. The last three classes everyone in here just listened to what I had to say. Who knows if what I told them was real?"

"It was, I have the notes," I hear Santana chuckle a little and oh my god all I can imagine is seeing her smiling and it's so beautiful. I can't look back. I have to settle for what my brain is cooking up.

"This is going to be a fun class."

I look up and see Mr. McSherry smiling and pointing in the direction of Santana with his dry erase marker.

All I'm wondering is: For who?

~:~:~

I didn't think Santana would be here. I finally made a correct assumption today. While I hope she hasn't quit, I'm glad she isn't here. It would have been awkward for everyone. It's not like everyone in Glee Club doesn't know about everything that's happened. If Finn knows, everyone knows.

"Alright everyone! Welcome back!" Mr. Schue says stepping into the choir room from his office. The whole room "woos" and claps as he walks to the center of the room, "Now, I know we're coming off a tough loss, but I have an amazing feeling about this year. This is it guys!" Cheers erupt from the risers just as Schue makes it to the center. As it's dying down, he begins speaking again, "As you can all probably see, we have a new face, but we're also missing a few…" his eyes land on me for just a second; it's long enough for me to know that he knows, "So, ladies and gentlemen: it's recruitment time!"

And Mr. Schuester has already lost us. Cue immediate groaning from everyone. As much as all of us love (I know that some of them say they don't, but they do) Glee Club, no one else does. It's unfortunate, but entirely true. Our only hope of recruiting new people are actual new people. Like, kids who have transferred here and haven't heard of of the New Directions. I don't think I've seen any new kids.

"I have faith in you guys. I always have," is all he says in response, "we'll hold auditions next week in the auditorium." He claps his hands and takes a step forward, "Okay, next order of business: I know it's been a long summer and some of you are just itching to get on up here a sing your hearts out. Who's up first?"

"I'd like to perform something Mr. Shuester," I hear Blaine behind me and a seat shift, "I know that I'm here from one of your rivals, the Warblers, but I'd like just let you all know that I am one hundred percent devoted to the New Directions. Also, I feel like I shouldn't have to skip the audition process simply because you've already seen me perform."

"The floor is all yours, Blaine," Mr. Schuester moves to the risers as Blaine walks down them.

"Hi everyone!" he smiles then subconsciously adjusts his bow tie, "I'm Blaine Anderson and I'm going to be performing Last Friday Night by Katy Perry." He looks down for a moment, seeming to be preparing and then his head pops up again, "Feel free to join me."

Brad and the Jazz Band start playing and Blaine's charming stage presence makes its appearance immediately and by the chorus, everyone's joined in like he suggested.

This should be more fun. I think everyone is trying to make it more fun for me, too. I've had a moment with pretty much every member of Glee Club. When the song is over we all return to our seats and Schue returns to the center.

"That was fantastic, Blaine! The exact kind of energy we're looking for! Okay, anyone else have anything?"

I can feel eyes on me. I'm sitting in the front so I can't see anyone, but I _know_ they're all looking at me. When does Rachel Berry miss out on a chance to perform?

Today's the day folks.

"As much as you were all probably expecting tearful rendition of John Mayer's _Dreaming With a Broken Heart_, you're being spared," I say because the eyes that are on me were starting to get heavy and excruciating.

"That's quite alright Rachel," Mr. Schuester gives me this sad smile and I suddenly want nothing more than to be out of the choir room. Also, _Dreaming With a Broken Heart_ is now playing in my head making everything that much worse. "Okay, well if that's it-"

Yes!

"Actually, Mr. Schue…"

No!

"Yes, Finn."

"I just um… wanted to apologize to everyone for you know, Nationals. It was all my fault," oh god, as nice as this is, I wish he'd shut his big doofy mouth, "And I want you all to know that I'm going to be working extra hard this year. Especially on my dancing."

I hear seats shift, then I hear, "That was cool, bro."

Then I hear a seat shift again, "Oh and I want to apologize to Rachel," as soon as my name permeates through my ear drums I turn around, "I was out of line and what I did was completely disrespectful to you and-" I can see his Adam's Apple bob in a gulp, "to you. So, yeah, I'm sorry."

I know what he was going to say, I'm not an oblivious idiot. Nevertheless, it was heartfelt and I really do appreciate it, "Thank you, Finn."

He smiles and sits back down. I turn myself back to the front and try not to let my shoulders slump like they want to.

"Okay, well if _that's_ it-"

"Actually, Mr. Schuester…"

NOAH!

"… I'm just kidding."

"Puckerman," Schue rolls his eyes then says, "Get out of here everyone! Get your homework done!" Over the din of everyones' discussions and the shuffling of chairs he reminds us to start recruiting.

I grab my bag from underneath my chair and try my best to get out of the room to get to my locker.

"Hey, Rachel!"

I said 'I try.'

"Hey, Noah."

"You got a minute?"

I don't, "Sure."

"Let's wait until everyone gets out of here," he suggests and my heart sinks. That damn song is still running through my head and I just want to get to my car so that I can find something else to get stuck there.

"Alright," I answer despite myself.

He picks up an unplugged guitar and plucks away at it as the rest of the Glee Club peters out of the room. Once the last of them cross through the doors, he stops playing and turns to me, "She's an idiot."

I can't help the tiny chuckle that escapes from my throat, "Thanks."

"You know, if you want, you can get that song out there. It's one of my favorite sad songs, by the way," he smiles and nudges me with a soft punch to my shoulder… like we're bros or something.

I contemplate it for a moment because maybe that would work. No. It won't. It would just make it worse. There'd be nothing cathartic about how true that song holds to my situation at the moment. "No thank you, Noah, I'm really not in the mood."

"Alright, it was worth a shot," he shrugs, "You know, at this point, I think she feels guilty."

"Huh?" I'm caught off guard and the not-so-elegant syllable slips out.

"That's why she hasn't said anything to you," he gets up and puts the guitar back on its stand, "she feels bad about shutting you out, so now she can't work up the courage to talk to you."

"That's bullshit," more elegance coming out of my mouth.

"I wasn't saying it's right, I'm just trying to help out my bro," he shrugs again as if this isn't a big deal.

And here's that anger again, "Well, just so you know, you haven't helped out your 'bro.' What you just told me doesn't do anything to make me feel better. Since when can she not talk to me? I have always been there for her."

"I'm sorry…"

I get up and start the trek across the choir room to the door, but a thought stops me and I turn back to him, "You know what, if you really want to help out your bro, tell her that she really needs to get over herself because I've already started to."

I actually think that's true.

As I walk away, I remember something that I had said to Quinn several nights before: I don't think I want to wait for someone who has hurt me as much as she has, let alone be with her.

I wish I could believe myself when I thought these things.

I suddenly have a new song stuck in my head and as I walk through the empty-ish halls and through the parking lot, it slips out:

"**Goodbye  
****Should be saying that to you by now, shouldn't I?  
****Laying down a law that I live by  
****Well, maybe next time**

**And I tell myself to let this story end  
****That my heart will rest in someone else's hand  
****But my 'Why not me?' philosophy began  
****And I said:**

**Ooh, how am I gonna get over you?  
****I'll be alright  
****Just not tonight  
****But someday…**

**Wave goodbye to me  
****I won't say I'm sorry  
****I'll be alright  
****Once I find the other side of someday"**

I guess I was in mood after all. Maybe not for everyone, but for me and I'm the most important right now.

* * *

**Gonna Get Over You by Sara Bareilles**

**A/N: Hey, girl hey! Or boy, but I kinda doubt it. Also, that sounds funny. Anyways, things are moving! Next step is to take some notes and this thing should really be on its way. I'm super excited about this thing! I just needed to pause from my feverish writing to post this Hope you're all enjoying this as much as I am. As per usual, I love hearing from almost* all of you.**

***Rude guest reviewers who don't understand what's happening need not apply.**

**Thanks.**


	4. Crossed the Line

I decided to take photography for one very simple reason: When it comes time for me to have _real_ head shots taken, I'll know exactly what I'm looking for.

Okay, I also really like to take pictures, but the other reason is way more important.

_Now_ I enjoy photography because there is no one that I really know in this class. Two to three days a week I am surrounded by people that don't know every intimate detail of my life. I'm not saying they haven't heard rumors because this _is_ a small school, but none of these people feel the need to be careful about what they say around me. They just talk to me.

This class has been my oasis for the last two and half weeks.

And yes, just what you were thinking, Santana still hasn't spoken to me. Everyday I find myself getting closer to that 'someday.'

I looked up the Five Stages of Grief. I always forget what order they're supposed to go in. It's denial, anger, bargaining, depression then acceptance. I think I'm experiencing these out of order. Or all at once. Well, maybe not all of them because acceptance still seems like it's just out of my reach. I think it's because there's still a giant question mark hanging over this entire situation.

Anyways, back to my private island:

"Alright, artists," that's Ms. Printz… I know, the perfect name for a photography teacher, "before you all go off into your weekend worlds, I've got an assignment to give you all. Yeah, yeah, yeah! I know! Grumble, grumble, grumble."

The class laughs instead of complains. I don't think anyone was going to complain anyways.

"For this one, I've assigned you all partners because it's a little tough. It's called the Alphabet Challenge!" We "ooo" and "aaah" at the name because somehow, as a class, we've come up with this inside joke. After Ms. Printz laughs a little she explains, "What you'll do for this one is find the alphabet in nature. I don't necessarily mean in the trees and bushes, but in everyday life."

Well, this sounds like a fun and wonderfully distracting project. Ms. Printz hands some photos to the kids in the front to pass around to everyone. As they get passed back she starts announcing the pairings. One of them gets to me as she starts so I miss the first couple. I know that this is an X, but I can't seem to figure out what it _actually_ is…

"Rachel aaaand…" I hear my name so my attention perks up, "Bailey."

Bailey? Who's… oh. The new girl. The one I spared from a Glee Club recruitment speech.

I look to the other side of the class and catch her eye. She smiles and waves at me forcing me to return the gestures. I guess it was contagious.

After Ms. Printz finishes reading off the pairings, everyone switches seats to meet with their partners. Bailey gets up out of her seat and walks over to my table. The simplicity of her jeans and fitted t-shirt combo is refreshing and she's really quite cute.

Wait, what?

"Hi," she takes the seat my usual table-mate sits in, "Bailey Westbrook, junior." She laughs a little at her own introduction, causing me to chuckle a little.

"Rachel Berry, senior," I introduce myself the same, including the laugh, and hold out my hand. "You're new at McKinley, right?" I ask a fairly dumb question because I'm sure she sees how small this school is and how _obvious_ a new person is.

"Yes and I'm having a really hard time getting used to such a small school," she sighs a little and tucks a piece of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear.

"You'll be fine, just try not to listen to people," I give her the best advice I can, even if I have a hard time following it myself.

I feel her shoulder nudge mine and hear her ask, "Are you free tomorrow?"

"Huh?"

When I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding, I see that she's produced her phone from her pocket and _that's_ why her shoulder brushed against mine.

"For the project?" she laughs again and I smile again. Something about her smile and her laugh are alarmingly contagious.

"Right," I shake my head at myself, "Yes, totally… well, not totally…" it's a therapy day, "I'm free from noon on."

"That's perfect! We could meet at the park at like, twelve-thirty? I don't know what's there, but maybe we'll find some stuff and I haven't been there yet, so it'll be an adventure," she shrugs with both of her shoulders and lets an adorable half smile play across her lips.

Uhhh… was the word adorable in that sentence?

Maybe this isn't a good idea…

… or maybe it is.

"The park at twelve-thirty," I repeat feeling my heart beat just a tad faster than it should and for a reason unbeknownst to me… at least I don't think I know…

"Awesome," she nods, "We should probably exchange numbers, too. You know, for emergencies."

"Oh yeah, dire photography emergencies," I laugh effortlessly.

"Hey, it's the alphabet in every day life, you never know!"

She's right, I don't know.

~:~:~

"How are your dads?" my therapist, Harvey, asks. I think he's about twenty-nine/thirty. He's actually my second therapist. My first, Marsha, took a job in Illinois because her husband was promoted to a position located there. It was quite tumultuous news to stomach after having worked with her for two years and it worried me knowing that I was going to have to start over with someone new. Marsha recommended that I see Harvey; she thought I would feel comfortable with him and that we'd hit it off immediately. Of course I was skeptical and I was already starting to feel like all the work that Marsha and I had done was a waste. I almost didn't go to my first appointment, but she was right. We did hit it off right away. He's younger than Marsha and he actually specializes in 'teens and twenty-somethings.' I like talking to him because he never makes me feel like I _have_ to say something about my deepest, darkest feelings. I think there have been just as many days when we just talked about nearly nothing as there have been days that we talked about things that were bothering me. If he'll let me, I think I'm still going to see him when I move to New York - through Skype of course.

"The usual," I give a half smile and shrug.

"And how were the first couple weeks of school?" he asks, then presses the top of his pen to his cheek. He generally keeps his facial expressions neutral, but when you spend enough time with someone, you can figure out certain tells. Like this one, he's looking for a certain thing. I know he isn't going to push it, but I also know what he's _actually_ asking.

"Uneventful," I answer sadly and look down at the floor.

"And why was that?"

Okay, so I _thought_ he wasn't going to push it.

"She still isn't talking to me," I spill it because what good is it to not talk about it. I think of all the people that I know, he's the best one to talk about this with. He doesn't know Santana. He only knows me and everything I've ever said about her.

"But you've seen her since we last spoke?" I'm sure he already knows the answer to this.

"Yes. She ran out of waived absences. She's in my first and last class of the day. I can hear her talking to people and I can see her and I know she sees and hears me, but nothing. We've made eye contact a few times and every time we do, it looks like she's about to cry," I exhale heavily and look back down at the floor between at us, "at this point, being in love with her hurts."

"Love shouldn't hurt, Rachel," Harvey says but I can't see him because I'm still looking at the floor and my eyes are blurring with tears.

"I know," I choke out and blindly reach for a tissue from the table next to my chair. We sit in the sounds of my sniffling for a moment and I gather myself enough to finally look back up at him, "I feel so selfish."

"What happened to Santana was most certainly traumatizing, but Rachel, what she's been doing to you is causing your own trauma." Harvey lets out a breath then removes his glasses, cleaning them with one of the least neutral expressions I've ever seen on him. He looks as though he's considering something, like there's something he wants to say, but he's weighing out the possibilities of what affect it might have on me. I'll be honest, it worries me a little. When he replaces his glasses the expression is gone and he seems to have made his decision, "Rachel?"

"Yes?" I answer with the worry I'm still experiencing.

"I'm going to say something and I merely want you to consider it. We don't have to talk about it, but we most certainly can if you'd like to…"

"Okay…"

He nods once, takes a breath and says, "The relationship that you and Santana had before her mother passed away, is completely of the past. No matter what happens between the two of you in the future, it will never be the same."

"I know," I answer even though he wasn't asking anything.

"Good, but I have more."

"Oh."

"I don't know Santana and while I have my theories, I don't know what she's feeling or thinking either, but I do know you. I know that you think it's selfish for you to think of yourself after what she's been through, but she's put you through this. I know that it's difficult to let go of something that's meant so much to you and had such a great impact on your life, but I've been watching what this has been doing to you - what you're letting it do to you - and it's crossed the line to where it's destructive."

That just might be some of the most painful truth I've ever been handed. I can't even speak. Actually, I can barely breathe.

Even though it hurts, I feel this sensation of relief somewhere. Like, something telling me that it's okay if things end. "I have to do what's right for me," I say continuing my inner-monologue, outside.

"You do and it isn't selfish for you to put you first. It's healthy," he reaffirms my sentiment.

Acceptance doesn't look so far away.

~:~:~

I feel so emotionally spent by the time get home at 11:45, that all I want to do is take a nap. A half an hour nap but a nap nonetheless. Once I'm in the house I yell out to my dads that I'm home and immediately take to the stairs. I get into my room and spot Santana's pillow on my bed. When I get to the side of my bed, I stare it down for a minute then finally come to the conclusion that it is no longer welcome with me. I snatch it up and chuck it at my closed door, then watch it fall to the floor in a sad lump. After staring at it for a few more seconds, I whip my head away from it and begin undressing myself for my nap. Sleeping in a skirt and sweater simply isn't comfortable. Besides, I have to change for the park anyways.

I'm in my bed for a mere five minutes and my phone dings with a text message. I should just ignore it, but I don't.

**From Bailey Westbrook:  
**Hey Rachel! I was just wondering if you were hungry? I could grab us something before we meet up!

I am _not_ in the mood for Breadstix. I start to text her back to tell her that I'm fine and that I'll just bring something when another message comes in.

**From Bailey Westbrook:  
**There's this place in Cridersville that has a ton of vegan options and makes their own burgers.

What? She's offering something other than the go-to-vegan-friendly-place?

_I could really go for a burger! Thank you!_

I type it and hit send as fast as my fingers allow.

**From Bailey Westbrook:  
**Haha! Awesome! Mushroom, garden or black bean?

Ohmygod there are options. Who is this girl and where has she been my entire vegan life?

~:~:~

"Oh my god, it's making my nose run but it's so good!" I sniffle loudly then bite into my black bean burger. Halfway through chewing I realize how foul I must look, sniffling and tearing into this thing like I've never had food before.

"Here," Bailey chuckles as she hands me some napkins.

"Thanks," I put down my burger so that I can do something about the worsening situation with my nose. I try my best to blow it discretely. I'm pretty sure I've failed because Bailey's laughing again. It is so infectious and I catch myself holding my gaze on her a little too long.

"I'm really glad you like it," she smiles once more before tearing into her own sandwich.

"What is yours?" I ask, scooting myself up a little to try and see what's between her hands.

She ponders over her sandwich for a second, "Um… I'm not entirely sure."

"How do you not know what you ordered?" I laugh and sniffle again. Damn this spicy but heaven in my mouth burger!

"I chose the 'Take a Chance' option," she shrugs, "I know it's grilled chicken and that's arugula," she points to a leaf that had fallen to the wrapper with her pinky, "their tangy sauce is definitely here and I think there might be fried pickle coins. Oh! And this is definitely munster cheese, but there's something spicy and I can't figure that out."

"So wait, you just ordered this thing blindly?" I ask, keeping my mouth agape for emphasis of my shock.

"Yeah… well, no. I told her things that I like and don't like and BOOM! I got this masterpiece," she gestures with her sandwich and smiles again before taking another giant bite.

"That's pretty fun actually. How did you find this place?" I genuinely want to know because I've lived around here my whole life and I had no idea this place existed.

"Well, my Mom is actually gluten intolerant so when we moved, of course one of the first things we did was seek out places that we could all eat at. People are only recently getting into the gluten-free thing so it's tough to find places, but we found this one a couple weeks after we moved. I guess they like, bought out two spaces and made them one mega space, attaching two kitchens into one. They have separate sections for all of their options. It's really cool. I'll have to take you there sometime," she says it so easily and I find myself excited about the prospect of hanging out with her again, even after only a half an hour of spending time with her today.

"Yeah, I'd like that," I feel myself blush and I'm immediately assaulted by a pang of guilt.

"Hey, are you all set with that?"

"What?" I shake myself out of my head as best I can and hope that it doesn't look like I took myself out of our conversation. The last thing I want is an 'are you okay?'

"I was just going to clean this up if you're all set," that smile is back on her lips and I find my gaze trained on it again.

Tearing my eyes away, I look down at the wrapper that had been doubling as a plate and all that's left is some stray spinach and sharp, reject fries, "Yeah. I'm totally all set, thank you!"

"No problem," she says scooping up my trash and getting up from the picnic table.

The trash is pretty far away and I feel like it's rude to make her walk all the way over there and come back just for us to head back in that direction. "Hey, Bailey!" I call and she stops. I grab both of our cameras and jog over to her.

"You didn't have to do that," she shakes her head as I join her on her walk to the trash.

"You didn't have to buy me lunch," I return.

"I wanted to," her lower lip slips in between her teeth for the briefest of moments and as her cheeks pink, she turns her head forward.

Why does my stomach feel like this? And why is my heart speeding up?

I stop walking as she approaches the trash and somehow, my eyes trail down her back. The words 'that's nice' pop into my head when my eyes land her butt and as soon as I realize what my thoughts were, my eyes pop right back up to the back of Bailey's head.

What am I doing?

What is _she _doing? Nothing. I don't think. She's just… here.

"Where to first?" she asks when she turns around.

"Uhh…" I'm caught off guard by the question, "There's a playground?"

"Oh wait! Look," she grabs my shoulders and turns me around to face the picnic table we'd just abandoned. I'm completely missing what she wants me to see because all I can think about is how close she is to me, "the um… picnic table…"

I regain my focus after a moment and figure out what she's trying to show me, "It's an A."

"The first one!" she says with excitement and as she takes a step back from me. Then she steps out from behind me, grabs my hand and pulls me back towards the picnic table.

I didn't realize how empty they'd felt. As soon as I felt her hand in mine my heart began to speed up again. It actually doesn't slow down again until well after she's let it go and the photos have been taken. It isn't until somewhere between the picnic table and the playground that it feels normal.

We don't spend that much time at the playground, not because we don't find much, but because there are a lot of kids there. After that, we wander somewhat aimlessly through the park with the hopes of simply finding things. We've both come to the conclusion that sometimes it's easier to find things when you aren't necessarily looking for them. By doing so, we find an E, an F, an I, two Ls and a Y. All the while we keep up an average conversation. I try my best to ask generic, but somewhat personal questions.

I'm not dumb. I'm also quite in touch with myself and most importantly, I'm not dead. I _know_ Bailey is attractive. She has gorgeous, long, dirty blonde hair with natural highlights that practically glow in the sun. Her eyes are blue, but somehow they're both dark and light at the same time. You can tell that she cares about what she looks like, but she doesn't work super hard to impress everyone. I think what's most attractive about her is her confidence. Despite being goofy and sometimes awkward, she's obviously confident in herself, a trait hard to find in sixteen year-old girls. Actually, I take that back, the most attractive thing about her is her smile. Couple it with her laugh and I keep melting. So not only is she attractive, but I'm finding myself attracted to her… at least I think so.

Or maybe I just miss someone else?

Eventually, we meander to the part of the park where there's a pond and Bailey suggests that we take a break.

"We can watch those people over there trying to feed that swan," she points and chuckles, then sits herself down on the grass.

"Clearly they don't see that he wants nothing to do with them," I laugh as I lower myself down to sit next to her, positioning myself at what I deem to be a safe distance. I hope this approximate five inches is enough.

"So, six down and only twenty left to go," she quirks up her eyebrows with enthusiasm, "I think we're doing pretty damn well."

"Where are we going to find the rest of these?" I turn my head to look at her.

"I don't know! That's why we gave each other our numbers. Dire photo emergencies," she reminds me of our conversation from yesterday… the same one in which I told her I was vegan… duh. I've been trying to remember if I told her all day!

"Oh, so it wasn't so that you could sneak a lunch date into today," I think I'm joking.

"Maybe that, too," and there's her lip between her teeth and the pink cheeks and the look away.

My heart is pounding so hard that I can practically hear it. I try to take deep breaths in a sorry attempt to slow it down.

"I'm really glad that Ms. Printz paired us together," I see her turn her head back to me out of my peripheral.

Despite myself, I look back at her. "I am, too," I answer, because I am.

"I had a really great time today," she smiles not knowing what it's been doing to me all day.

"So did I," I answer, because I did.

"And I'm excited to spend more time with you," she says it slower than her last two statements and I swear she's gotten just a little bit closer.

"Me too," I answer, because I am.

I think we've both moved closer because now I have a zoomed in view of her smile and I know that I can't stop looking at it. The way her lips curl up and how her eyes light up. My eyes bounce up from her eyes back down to her lips and before I know it my lips are touching hers.

Her lips moves against mine and I can't even believe how good it feels. It feels good everywhere. I feel her hand on my cheek and her thumb brush up against my nose. My lips part just the slightest bit, enough that she can slide her top lip in between them.

I'm kissing her back.

As soon as that thought registers I yank myself back, "I can't!"

It takes Bailey a moment to recover. I backed away so quickly, she was practically left kissing a phantom.

"W-why not?" she stumbles.

"I have a girlfriend," I answer slowly, but automatically.

Bailey shifts her body slightly and looks me right in the eyes, "Do you?"

She knows about Santana. I don't know how much she knows, but she knows about her at least and she must know that we don't talk to each other. Has this been her plan all day? I don't think I care.

"I... don't…" I feel her fingers land on the back of my hand and the word 'know' just hangs in the space between my brain and my vocal cords. The two words I did say echo through my head and as I look down at our hands, they feel true.

She's not letting go of my eyes and I can't seem to look away from her either.

This could either be the best or the worst thing I could do… or maybe it's both:

Lost in this trance, I hear the words: "You have beautiful eyes," come out of my mouth and then find myself lost in her lips again.

This time, I don't pull away.

* * *

**A/N: #noregrets**


	5. Enough

As of today, it has been two months and a week since Santana's mother passed away and just as much time since she last spoke to me.

As of today, it has been a week since I noticed someone else.

Finally, as of today, it has been six days since I kissed someone else.

I've never been more of a mess than I am now. I did something for me and now I'm a mess. I was right, too. It was both the best and worst thing I could have done. It was liberating but at the same time, it's trapped me in this cage of guilt.

I may or may not have cheated on Santana. I don't know. I don't know because I don't know if I'm still _with_ Santana. I don't feel like I am, but I still love her and my heart is still there; no matter how much my brain keeps trying to tear it away.

Perhaps the worst of all is that I _like_ Bailey. I like her a lot. Enough to make me sometimes forget about everything with Santana. Talking to her is so easy. She's fun and she sends me texts that make me smile and sometimes blush. I don't think it's _bad_ that I like her, it's just… it complicates everything. I can't stop the smile that appears on my face when she texts me, though, no matter what their contents; from the innocent to the not so innocent. Those started last night. I said that Bailey was confident and believe me, she has every reason to be.

I haven't told anyone about what happened on Saturday or what's been subsequently happening. That might actually be what makes this bad. It's like I've turned it into a dirty little secret; something that it isn't. I might not want the entire school to know about what's happening between Bailey and me, but it isn't 'dirty.' The problem is that once one person finds out, everyone will and I don't know what havoc will wreak if that happens.

I feel like this is wrong, but then I don't and I just keep talking myself in circles. I know that people often cheat on their significant others for attention. They do it because they want attention _from_ their significant other. I know this is happening because I want attention, but I'm not sure I want it from 'my significant other.' I think I just want it from my other.

The real problem is that I don't _know_ anything. I just think things.

**From Bailey:  
**There's this kid in my history class: sooo gay and forever wearing a bow tie. Obvi the gay part isn't a problem, but the bow ties…

**From Bailey:  
**Have to go.

As much as I love Blaine, she's right. He's very sweet, but those bow ties make him look so very uptight. He's also my friend so:

_He's sweet and he's my best friend's boyfriend. And you guys have more in common than you think. He's new here, too._

**From Bailey:  
**One thing I do like about this small school: you always know who I'm talking about. Lol.

**From Bailey:  
**Another thing: it's easy to find you. You know, you look kind of cute today ㈵6

Here's one of those unstoppable smiles appearing on my face. I'm pretty sure I'm blushing along with this one.

_Only kind of?_

I'm rolling my eyes at myself because I feel like I'm the worst at flirting.

"Who are you talking to?" Kurt whispers and leans over trying to see my screen.

"No one," I say quickly and hold my phone face down in my lap. Because that isn't obvious. "Just my dad," I whisper then give him a closed lip smile, trying my best to cover up however obvious my first reaction was.

"Yeah," Kurt whispers just as my phone vibrates in my lap, "I'm sure your dad always makes you blush like that."

"Mr. Hummel," I'm saved by our Astronomy teacher, Mrs. Lewis, "I'm assuming you and Miss Berry already know everything there is to know about Jupiter's sixty-seven moons."

"Sorry, Mrs. Lewis," Kurt shifts himself back towards the front of the class and picks his pen back up.

When I'm satisfied that he's paying attention to what Mrs. Lewis is blabbing about, I pick up my phone and slide my way to my most recent text.

**From Bailey:  
**Okay, maybe 100% the cutest thing I've ever seen.

"That is not your dad!"

"Mr. Hummel, do I have to switch your seat?"

"No, Mrs. Lewis, I'm sorry. Last time, promise," Kurt picks up his pen again and 'resumes taking notes.'

Despite the absolute mortification I feel from Kurt's outburst, I still manage to reply to Bailey's message with a little monkey covering its eyes _and _ the heart eyes face. Class is almost over and I have photography next. Just a few more minutes and I get to see her again. I just need to get myself out of here as quickly as I can so that Kurt can't corner me.

The bell rings and I shove my things into my bag as quickly as I can. Of course my chair gets stuck in a crack in the tile and by the time I get it out, Kurt is already up and at my side waiting for me.

"Kurt, I really can't talk, I have to get all the way to the other-"

"Your photography class is right across the hall from my drawing class. You can talk," Kurt turns with me out of our Astronomy class. How could I have possibly forgotten about his drawing class? He never walks with me, that's why. He usually takes a detour to meet up with Blaine.

Just because I can talk, doesn't mean that I want to, "I don't want to talk, Kurt."

Except that now that I have the opportunity, there's a part of me that's just itching to tell someone about how amazing this is.

"I think you do," Kurt says quietly as we turn towards the stairs.

He knows me too well.

"I have to stop at my locker," I tell him, "it's on the way and I have some film in there."

"Is she the new girl? Can she sing?" he asks me just as we get to my locker. I give him a look telling him 'don't go there.' "Okay," he holds his hands up in surrender. He gives me a little time to get my locker open, "When did it start?"

That's definitely not the question that I was expecting. I grab the canister of film that I'd stopped for and my lunch and close my locker. "Saturday… well, actually, I'd say Friday," I answer somewhat reluctantly and fighting off a smile as I turn in the direction that we need to start walking. Santana's at her locker. She's in her Cheerios uniform talking to Brittany whose locker just so happens to be one away from hers… again. At least she's pretending to talk to Brittany.

Kurt sees her, too. Actually, he probably saw her before I did. "I think you should go for it," he says while we're still in ear shot of Santana. He could be talking about anything. I know what he's talking about, but she wouldn't.

"I think I… kind of already am… going for it," I say and I can feel my cheeks burning.

"Oh my god, look at you!" he squeals after we've turned the corner and gotten a few more steps away, "I haven't seen you like this since… dammit." I see him berate himself for almost going there.

By almost going there, he did go there though and I'm reminded that I can't escape Santana even when she isn't near me. You know, things were fine until he said that. It didn't even bother me to be near her. Seeing her and not talking to her has been such a regular occurrence that being in her presence barely affects me at this point. _Now_ I feel that guilt again; after Kurt reminded me that Santana and I had something.

That's just the thing though, we _had_ something.

"That's her, right?" Kurt whispers pulling me to the wall as if this is some big undercover operation.

Initially, I'm thoroughly annoyed by Kurt for both making too much of a big deal out of this and for making us look absolutely ridiculous, but then I catch Bailey's eye and her smile. How can I stay agitated when I see that?

"Oh, that's definitely her," I hear Kurt say, then after Bailey walks into the photography room, I turn to him and see that he's been looking at me.

"I don't want this getting everywhere," I say to him sternly, quietly and with as much worry as it makes me feel.

"I won't even say anything to Blaine," he holds up one of his hands as if to swear it to me, "I'm all for this, Rachel. Believe me there is _nothing_ I want more than for you to be happy, but if little exchanges like that," he points over towards the door of the photography room, "keep happening, other people are going to find out and I can't promise anything for them."

I was already aware of this. Hearing someone else say it makes the chance of that happening much more real… and a little scary. I let out a heavy, "I know."

Just as the bell rings, he wraps me up in a hug and says, "I hope this all works out for you."

I think he knows me well enough to already know how much this is all tearing me up inside, which is why he says that to me. We part ways quickly so that we're only a few seconds late for our classes. My worry lingers as I pass through the door, but when my eyes find Bailey's again from across the room it slips away. Now that someone knows, it doesn't seem so bad for others to as well.

~:~:~

Fourth period is four minutes longer than the other four periods in the day. It's when lunch happens. Instead of having the entire school converge on the cafeteria all at once, fourth period is divided into three lunches. If you have first or third lunch, you're stuck in fourth period for an extra four minutes of passage time. If your class is boring, you totally feel that four minutes, but if you love it, the seventy minutes feels shorter than all of your other sixty-six minute ones. Needless to say, photography is too short.

"I'll stay behind and finish these," Bailey says to me after the bell rings. We're in the dark room and we still have a few more photos to develop.

"Are you sure? I don't mind staying with you," I say letting my pinky brush against her hip. I'm trying so hard to be discreet.

"I'm sure," she says softly then turns around so her backside is against the edge of the table, "especially if you… leave me with a little something." Her lips part slightly and her eyes slowly shift down my face from my eyes to my lips.

I know exactly what she wants.

"Everyone else is gone," she whispers and simply because I'm a little paranoid I look behind me, then quickly back to her.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," she whispers through that smile, drawing my lips right to hers. Even under these red lights I can't resist her smile. I could really get used to this. I _want _to get used to this.

"Text me?" I whisper as I take my lips back.

"I'd love to," she whispers and steals another kiss from my lips, "now go have some of your rabbit food."

The wink she gives me is so cute and I just giggle as I back away out of the dark room.

~:~:~

Kurt and Mercedes hate waiting in the lunch line so they always get up seven minutes into the lunch period to get their lunch, leaving Blaine and me with our food from home to save the table. Today is no different. Except:

"Hey, do you mind if I go talk to someone for a minute? I have a group project due next week," Blaine asks, already half up out of his seat.

"I don't mind," I laugh a little. I mean, I don't really want to sit here by myself, but this looks urgent.

"Thanks, Rachel," he has to call out because he's already half way across the cafe.

Because sitting alone even for a few minutes is the least fun ever, I put my head down and concentrate on my rabbit food. And now I probably look foolish because I'm snickering at myself.

"We're awesome," a familiar voice comes from behind me and a stack of black and white photos slides onto the table. I turn around and follow Bailey with my eyes as she takes the seat closest to me, then scoots it even closer. She's close enough that our shoulders are touching, "Look at these!"

I pick up the photos that she's brought and flip through them slowly. These are fantastic. If I do say so myself. I'm a big fan of the R that Bailey found on her own on Tuesday. Of course. I flip past a few more and then stop because I'm not looking at letters anymore.

"When did you take this?" I ask her knowing that this is one of hers. I couldn't have possibly taken this picture of myself. It's from some distance and I'm standing at a tree with my own camera to my eye. I think I already know when she might have taken this.

"I was taking the picture of the first L and when I turned around you were gone. I saw you over by the tree and you just looked so… perfect," she smiles that half smile that I really love, "I just had to… capture it."

For a second I forget that we're in the middle of the cafeteria and I almost follow my instinct to kiss her. Almost. She's still completely in my personal bubble, however, a place that I really like for her to be in.

"There's also um… this one," she tugs at the picture of me and lifts it to reveal one that we took together. My lips turn up immediately upon seeing our smiling faces squeezing into the frame. We had been joking about how it could turn out because we couldn't see the results immediately. Bailey kept joking that one of our faces was going to be cut in half, most likely mine because she was holding the camera. She said that her aim was terrible and that we might even just get foreheads. Clearly she was wrong because this is perfect. I just can't get over how… happy I look and how happy I feel seeing this.

"Can you develop another one of these?"

"Yeah," she answers breathily, "I can do that."

"Thank you," I smile and work so hard to fight the pull that her lips have on me.

"Talk to you in a little bit?" she asks as she slowly pushes her chair back.

"I'd love that," I reply handing her the photos so that she can bring them back. As she walks away I turn back to my lunch so that no one can see the blush that's obviously on my cheeks.

After a few seconds, there are trays on either side of me. I keep my head down because I can still my feel the ridiculous giddiness all over my face.

"Rach?" I hear Kurt.

"Mhm?" my eyes are still trained on my lunch in front of me.

"I think other people just found out."

"What?" my head snaps up and whatever was leftover from Bailey's visit is completely gone. "Who?" I ask as if that _really_ matters.

"Probably the last person you wanted to find out," Mercedes answers for him because he's stuck staring at one of the doors.

Oh god. It does matter.

"Where?" I ask trying to keep my panic at bay.

"That door and left," Blaine says running over to our table. He's pointing to the same door that Kurt's been staring at.

Without thinking at all, I push away from the table and blindly run in the direction that Blaine told me. Then it clicks that Bailey was headed back to the photography room and after a few strides in the right direction I hear something.

"Can I please just have those back?"

"Why? They're just pictures of junk."

I found them and when I turn the corner I see that so have several other members of the William McKinley High School student body.

"Exactly, so why don't you just give them back to me and we can both just go back to what we were doing?"

I don't know what to do. I'm just standing here in this crowd, watching.

"Because I'm trying to figure something out."

I have to do _something_, but I am so torn. On the one hand I should save Bailey from this. This is _not_ something she should have to go through. On the other hand, I think Santana's fighting for me.

But why now?

"Please, I really need those," Bailey says, letting her worry show for the first time.

I can only see her back but with the way her arms are moving and by the look on Bailey's face, I can tell she's flipping through the pictures and it's only a matter of time before she...

"Well aren't these just… perfect."

...gets to _the_ pictures.

The mix of venom and hurt that was spit out of Santana's mouth is so clear.

"We're just doing a photography project together," Bailey says calmly, covering for me even though she doesn't have to. I actually find it to be quite chivalrous.

But what Santana's doing… I still don't know how I feel about it… although I do think I'm finding myself growing fairly agitated over her bullying someone on account of me.

"So that gives you license to flirt with my _girlfriend_?"

And now I know exactly how I feel about this.

"Santana, stop!"

I push my way through a couple of people in the growing crowd and stare at the back of Santana's head. She isn't moving. At all. She's actually stopped moving long enough for Bailey to take back the pictures from her.

"Bailey, you should go," I look beyond Santana's back to Bailey, "I'll talk to you later."

Santana whips around and spits, "What?"

And now I'm furious.

"_That_ is the first thing you say to me after over two months?"

I watch as her facial expression melts from jealous rage into sheer mortification and fear, "Rachel…"

The crowd around us is growing and I'm pretty sure that they've already witnessed enough. They most certainly aren't going to witness the first conversation that Santana and I have had in exactly two months and one week. I step forward, grab Santana's arm and turn her towards the stairs. It's the first time we've touched and it definitely doesn't feel like I thought it would. Actually, I don't even want to be touching her. I let go of her arm and lead her up the stairs to the first empty classroom I find. I open the door and gesture for her to pass into the room first. She's had the upper hand this entire time, she's not getting it right now.

"I'm sorry," she says as soon as I close the door.

"Sorry? Santana, I don't think 'I'm sorry' is enough at this point," I say exactly what I'm thinking and I say it as calmly as I can muster because even though I'm so angry that I can barely see her standing five feet in front of me, I don't want this to turn into a screaming match.

"Rachel, this isn't how I wanted things to go," she says in a shaky voice and with a half a step forward.

I resist the urge to take a step back, "Really? Well you've surely taken enough time to figure out how 'things should go' by now, don't you think?" I am trying so hard not to let my anger get the best of me, but she's saying the wrong things. I don't think I know what the right things are, but what I'm hearing is not it.

"I got to the hospital just in time," she says it quickly, like if she doesn't say it now, she never will and I can hear her fighting back tears, "They were about to take her into the OR when I got there. Rach, she was a mess. She hadn't been wearing her seatbelt and she'd gone through the windshield. None of the doctor's know how she was conscious when I got there, but she was. It's like she was waiting for me," a soft sob wracks her body and I simply can't stop myself from stepping forward and catching her, "she told me that she was sorry and I tried so hard to forgive her, but even looking at her in all of her pain I couldn't do it."

"It's okay," I say softly wiping away one of her tears, just the way I'd imagined I would have… over two months ago. That thought takes me out of this moment and despite her continuing sobs I back away a half a step and let her hold herself up.

"No, it wasn't," her tears have suddenly stopped, "She was dying and I couldn't even forgive her! I was still so blindly angry at her. When her surgeon came out and told us 'they did everything they could,' I didn't want to be around myself, let alone anyone else."

"This is the part that we all know," I say only somewhat bitterly. My heart truly aches for her at the moment, but this is coming so far from when it should have, I'm having a terrible time letting it show.

"I wanted to come to you," she says timidly, "But every time I picked up my phone and saw your name, all I could think about was her and all I felt was this awful mess of anger and guilt and sadness. I know, it's fucked up, but it's just what happened to me and then…" I see her gulp down at something in her throat, "I saw you. As soon as you saw me you started crying. I did that to you and believe me when I say I have never felt worse about something that I'd done."

My breath has gotten heavier and somehow I've found myself that half a step closer to her again.

"Things in my mind have just been such a mess. It's just been running around in circles trying to find the right thing to say to you because nothing has felt good enough."

She's so close. Same breathing space close. She's so close that it is far too easy for her place her lips onto mine. I let her far too easily.

I know she's sorry. I could see it and I can feel it in the way she's kissing me, but it hurts. Her lips against mine sting. They sting with all of the hurt she's already caused and I can't bear the pain that she's magnifying.

"No!" I shout through tears born from both anger and sadness as I shove her off of me, "It is not that easy. You will _not_ manipulate me by playing to my sympathy!"

"Rachel, my Mom died-"

"That card's expired, Santana," I reply with the slightest bit of venom, then inhale a deep, steadying breath because, yes, her mother did die, "I spent so much time crying for you. Crying for what you must have been going through, but you know what? I've spent even more time crying _because_ of you. I don't think you know how much you've hurt me."

Her posture shifts and I see this glint in her eyes that I haven't seen in over five months. "Well, has it occurred to you that maybe you've hurt me?" she has the audacity to ask me because if the defensive isn't working, you should jump onto offense, right?

Wrong.

"Excuse me?" I laugh dryly, "That's quite rich, Santana, really."

"You've just been looking right through me ever since I came back to school!"

"Because I don't know who I'm looking at!" I step on her attack and just in case she's forgotten, "Need I remind you that _this_ is the first time we're speaking to each other in over two months?"

"Well then why didn't you-"

"Don't you _dare_ go there," here comes a resurgence of that anger I'd been trying to keep down, "You know I tried to get to you! I left you message after message telling you that you I was there for you! This distance between us is completely your fault. You've spent all this time keeping to yourself and then you have the audacity to stake your claim on me because all of a sudden you feel like 'we're' threatened? Well guess what, Santana; 'we' were threatened the second you decided to shut me out of your life. After everything we've been through, you threw it all away. You threw _us_ away because what? You were sad? Bull shit… and… and fuck you!"

The last sentiment is somewhat of an afterthought… a completely uncontrolled, no holds barred afterthought. I actually think that might be the first time I've ever said that to someone, well actually said it and meant it. I'm sure it isn't really, but this one might replay in my brain for a while.

"I…" Santana stutters probably because that's one of the last things she'd expected to come out of my mouth, "I didn't throw us away," she grasps for something, "I've been trying to find the right thing…"

Why is she clinging to that?

"Santana, _anything_ would have been the right thing! You settled for nothing and left me to wait for you! I've been here for you all along and you didn't want me!" How has it taken me this long to realize that's why this hurts so much? Why is it this moment that I can say it? I know why, "And I know, how dare I make this about me when _you_ lost your mother, but there are two of us in this, Santana. There are two of us with hearts to be broken," I inhale in this sort of hiccup as the pain of tears cuts at my throat and I fight it because there's something else, "It _hurts_ to love you and I just can't anymore."

"Rachel, what are you saying?" I see panic in her eyes as I back away from her even more.

"I'm saying that you're too late, Santana."

My tears are getting much harder to hold back as my back hits the door and my hand finds the doorknob. I can't stay in this room much longer. I know that this is the right thing for me to do, but that doesn't make this hurt any less and the sobs that I've been keeping at bay are going to find their way out soon. Probably as soon as I pass through this door.

"That isn't going to stop me from fighting for you."

I actually believe her. I believe her, but that doesn't mean I forgive her. Though it's stolen my breath, one declaration doesn't erase all of the damage that she's already done.

It really is too late.

~:~:~

~:~:~

End Part I

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**A/N: I promise I won't leave you hanging too long.**


	6. Better Than Ever

**Before you dive head first into part two, a quick reminder that this universe has always been an _alternate universe with canon dropped in_. Thanks. Enjoy.**

* * *

Hey there! Remember me? I know it's been a long time since we last spoke… two years and about two and a half months actually, but I'm back and believe me, I'm better than ever.

I got kind of… lost.

I made two very huge mistakes and paid for them. Actually, I probably made several mistakes, but there are just two that have stayed with me the longest and that I've learned the most from:

1. I blocked the most important person in my life out during the most difficult time of my life when I should have clung to her and allowed her to help me through my burden.  
2. I assumed she'd remain unhurt by my actions.

I haven't seen Rachel since we graduated a year and three-ish months ago. Well, not in person at least.

Okay, before I get into things, I need to not have you thinking that for the last two years I've been this mess, who has been completely hooked on her ex-girlfriend. That is not true. I worked my ass off to get over Rachel. I _did_ get over Rachel. It was difficult, but it most certainly happened. She definitely didn't make it easy when she started dating that girl… Bailey. What sucked the most was that she was nice. Like, actually a really, genuinely good person. It's so hard to really hate people like that! I could tell that Rachel wasn't in love with her, though. She definitely liked her, but love, not so much. That doesn't mean I tried to move in on her or anything… actually, I'll get to that later.

Acceptance rolled around sometime near Regionals, so March/April-ish. It was around the same time that Brittany and a certain wheelchair ridden boy broke up. Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best idea, but we were two consenting adults at the time and for the two months that it lasted. Besides, Britts is hot and will try anything at least once. I always enjoyed being Britt's best friend with benefits. We are still best friends, by the way, it's just hard to partake in the benefits when one of us lives in New York City and the other lives in Los Angeles.

If you were wondering who's where, I'm the one on the East Coast.

The biggest thing that pushed me into the realm of okay was my acceptance to Columbia. Yup. That's right, Ivy League, Morningside, Manhattan, Columbia University.

With very little to distract me, I dove head first into school. I pulled out straight A's all year and lifted my SAT score to a 2280. I never realized how many things I had working in my favor until I concentrated on them all. I had rejoined the Cheerios _and_ the New Directions, both of which were nationally ranked. I'd also made a good enough impression on some of my teachers to earn me some glowing recommendations. I was also lucky enough to receive the good word of a member of the United States House of Representatives. Somehow, Kurt's dad found out I was going to be majoring in Political Science and he just offered.

I'm convinced that it was my essay that really sold the admissions board, though. I wasn't going to write about my mother's death, but as I sat and tried to think of something else that had a great impact on my life, it was the only thing that I could think of. Nothing else in my life has affected me like her death had. I spilled everything into the essay. Everything. Columbia, NYU, Ohio State… they were all aware that I'm a Latina lesbian who had been disowned by her Catholic mother, who just so happened to get into a fatal car accident while we were trying mend our relationship. Talk about diversity.

Funny enough, I have Q to thank for Columbia. She convinced me to apply. She told me that she was applying to Yale and she thought that since I was secretly a really good student that I should apply there, too. It was a super cool idea, except I wouldn't want to be caught dead in New Haven, Connecticut. New York City is where I have always wanted to be. Always. Then she directed me to Columbia and I was in love.

OH! How could I forget? Papá got a new job! He's teaching at NYU's medical school and he moved here with me! It's like, we started this new life here together. Separate, because I live in a tiny studio apartment in Morningside and he lives in a brownstone in Williamsburg with all of the hipsters, but together nonetheless.

What else… oh yeah. I've had a couple girlfriends since moving here. I told you, I got over Rachel. In the beginning of last year I dated a girl named Lou… okay her name is Louise but she _hated_ it. Like, if you said it she wouldn't talk to you for a good twenty-four hours. I did it once after we'd been dating for about three weeks and it was the last time. It was the last time because I broke up with her afterwards. I didn't think she was serious when she told me she wouldn't talk to me for a whole day. She was cute and really funny, but that level of immaturity was not something I needed to deal with.

Then there was Taylor. I'll be honest, I was pretty serious about Taylor. Things started out normal. Working on a group project. We were the only two that were really serious about the grade. We spent many a late night in the common area of her dorm, working and flirting. She was smart and funny and hot and I felt like she got me. I grew a pair and asked her out on a real date, then we were together for six months. The sex was good, really good and I was _really_ into her, but there was just something… I don't know… missing. Actually, I do know. You might think it's weird that I know this, but there's this Carrie Underwood song... okay, she's hot and she has an unbelievable voice, so what if she's a country artist... it's called Wine After Whiskey and there's this line in the chorus, "once you've tasted a love that strong, you can't go back and you can't settle on anything less and that's what gets me." I get it and I feel like she knew that. I never really said it out loud, but I think it clouded our relationship. She _must_ have felt it too, because she broke up with me. I guess I wasn't _that_ serious about her, because I never really got all that torn up about it. Yeah, it sucked that I wasn't having sex… or cuddling with someone on a regular basis, but I was definitely fine.

That was three months ago. Of course I've had a couple hook-ups, but I'm in college. Just because I go to a fancy Ivy League school doesn't mean that I'm not going to let myself have the college experience… in light doses.

And that all brings us to now, the reason why I've brought you here today. As I mentioned before: I haven't seen Rachel in person since we graduated in June 2012. Well, it is now September 2013 and I can't seem to escape her. After a little over a year of living here, I go from nothing to seeing her everywhere I go.

Rachel. Is. Everywhere.

Why? You ask.

Because she's Fanny Brice, that's why.

Yup, at nineteen years old, Rachel Berry landed her dream role on Broadway. Actually, it had to have been at eighteen, because she's only been nineteen since July.

Okay, so for the normal every day New Yorker who doesn't know Rachel Berry from a hole in the wall, she probably isn't everywhere, but for me, someone who was once… involved with Rachel Berry, she is most certainly everywhere.

It started about two months ago. I was just minding my business, buying some necessities at the Duane Reade about a half a block away from my apartment like I do every month and there at the counter, under Paula Deen on People and to the left of Demi Lovato on Cosmo was Rachel on New York Magazine. It halted me completely. I even dropped my tampons. For who the fuck knows how long, I was just gaping at this magazine. That is until this bitch behind me pushed my shoulder and not-so-politely asked me if I was going to pay for my shit or not… and informed me that I dropped my tampons.

I bought it.

After I picked my jaw and my tampons up off the floor, I grabbed the magazine and bought it. When I got back to my apartment, it took me a half an hour to get myself to take it out of the bag. Then it took me another half an hour to open it. Yes, I spent a half an hour staring at her. Not a solid half an hour, but most of it. I don't even know how to describe what she looked like on this cover. I mean, she was beautiful of course, I'll always think she's beautiful. She looked confident, even though I bet she was terrified. She was just… striking. Obviously. I was basically rendered useless at the drug store. Then I finally opened it. I could hear her saying everything as she told the interviewer about growing up in a small town, her very proud fathers, the audition process and how previews were going in DC. This was the August issue and this interview had taken place a few weeks before it was printed. Everything about it was just so Rachel.

After that, I started to see her more and more. It happened gradually from spotting little things on newspapers here and there to seeing things pop up on the internet to bigger things on newspapers here and there to what's happening now. Now she's in Times Square which I try to avoid like most people who live here. She's also in the subway, however, something I can't avoid.

Does it sound like I'm complaining? Because I'm not. I am _so_ happy for her. If there is anyone that I have ever known in my life that deserved for their dreams to come true, it is Rachel. Someone who puts that much heart into everything she does, deserves something great.

Remember when I said that I knew she wasn't in love that Bailey girl? Believe me, I thought about making some kind of a move so many times, but I didn't. I kept my distance. I told her that I wouldn't stop fighting for her and at the time, I felt like trying to be with her again would only begin a fight against her. It would have distracted her. It would have distracted both of us. Besides, I had to work on me. I strongly believe that each of us are where we are today because of what happened and what didn't happen two years ago.

I know the more I keep saying it, the more it seems like I'm not, but I am over Rachel. I had to get over her. But I always knew that we were going to end up in the same place. Perhaps not together, but we are in the same place. What's meant to be will be, right? At least that's what Papá always tells me. Lo que será, será.

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**A/N: I told you I wouldn't make you wait long. Sorry (but not really) for the exposition and whatnot. Just wait until Tuesday when I'll have some more for you.**

**A/N 2: I have been trying really hard not to completely lose my shit in one of these author's notes, pretty much because I'm respectful. But, here we go: if you are planning on leaving something under the guise of "Guest" in the reviews, decide whether or not you would say it to someone's face. If you don't think you could do that, keep your shit to yourself. I have no problem with someone telling me that I suck, you have a right to your opinion, however, opinions should always have the opportunity to be rebutted. If you have a question, feel free to PM me, but if you want be rude, do it with a name connected to a profile; you're much less likely to find your shit on blast in one of these A/Ns.**

**A/N 3: Sorry to all of my respectful readers and reviewers, there are much more of you and I truly appreciate you.**


	7. Wingman

I think Papá's view of the phrase "what is meant to be, will be" is a little bit askew. Usually, when one believes in such a thing, they don't force their hand into the wheel of fate as forcefully as he has.

Yesterday, I received this message:

**Papá:  
**Hola mija! I hope you don't have plans tomorrow night. I'm taking you to dinner and then I have a surprise for you!

Today he told me that I should dress "nice."

Nice to me is one of my skin-tight, almost mid-thigh dresses. It generally garners a look from Papá, but then he tells me I look nice anyways.

So here I am, dressed nice in purple and black, post dinner and looking at my surprise.

Papá called in a favor he was owed by one of the professors in the Tisch School. He's taking me to the second night of Funny Girl previews.

"Papá, why are we here?" I ask as I stare at the theatre's marquee.

"Porqué, mija, I want to have a nice night with my daughter," he smiles and winks at me, before holding out his arm for us to cross the street.

"Papá," I say sternly because I'm not sure that I can take his humor right now, "Don't act like you don't know _who_ is in this."

"Of course I know _who_ is in this, Santana and so do you," he smiles and looks back at the theatre. I know he's looking at one of the pictures of Rachel… Fanny.

"What about 'lo que será, será?'" I ask, baffled at his audacity.

He pulls out the tickets as we approach the scanners and keeps hold of my arm as we pass through the doors into the main lobby of the theatre. Here, we're accosted by more images from the production and promotional photos.

"How can anything be if you do nothing, mija?" he asks just as we're handed Playbills and there she is again. The cover of the Playbill is her silhouette with the words Funny Girl under her chin.

Without lifting my head I say quietly, "I do want to see her."

"So do I," he wraps his arm around me and pulls me out my trance. We take our seats in the middle of the orchestra and as soon as we're settled and surrounded by other patrons Papá says, "And I want her to sign this, so we're going to the stage door."

Before I can respond the lights go down and I'm left with all my fear, agitation and excitement bottled up in my stomach. I'm not even sure I'm ready to see her on stage let alone in person.

God! What is wrong with me? Have I just _convinced_ myself that I'm over her? I guess if you say something enough it starts to become your truth. I've been existing with this being my truth for over a year and a half. I'm so pathetic!

I can't be here. I'm not going to be able to sit through this.

"Hello, gorgeous."

She is.

~:~:~

Despite my protests, Papá is adamant about going to the stage door. I wish I knew what was going on in my head for me to explain it to you. It's everywhere. I'm absolutely terrified, but I'm excited and I'm frustrated. Most of all I feel blind. I don't know what's going to happen. This isn't how I planned to see Rachel again. Granted, I didn't _have_ a plan to see Rachel again, but this wasn't it. It definitely wasn't planned for tonight! I'm just so unprepared.

"I can't believe you're making me do this!" I say to Papá in a sort of last ditch effort as we maneuver around the crowd waiting behind the parade bars around the stage door.

"I can't believe how loca you're acting," he says looking over to me.

I don't even have words for this man right now.

"It's going to be fine, mija. We'll just stand over here," he directs me somewhat away from the line, but clearly in the path to where the cars wait for the actors, "And when Rachel comes out, she'll see you in that dress and have to stop."

"¡Papá!"

"What? I told you to dress nice for a reason."

He can't be serious with this! His meddling is going too far!

"Okay, first of all, you are not my wingman!"

"Of course I'm not, that would be weird-"

"Second of all," I grind out, "what are you doing?"

"I am simply saying hello and congratulations to someone I was once very close with," he says and this cheeky smile pops up on his lips.

He is really something else right now.

"Right, Papá, _was_. It's not like she's going to see me and immediately want to be with me again. Things don't work that way. If anything she's just going to remember how awful I was."

And there it is. The fear.

"Tana," he turns to me and squares my shoulders to him, "Of course that's not how it works. But it doesn't work by sitting in your apartment and reading about her either. _That_ is weird," I laugh a little even though he's making fun of me, "You were both very young when everything happened. At seventeen you were both dealing with some very adult things and you handled them the way your lack of life experience could allow you to. You have to know this. And I know you know you aren't the same person you were two years ago and guess what? I have a feeling Rachel is different, too."

He's said these things to me before. About two years ago actually, when it all happened. Instead of running right to Brittany, I left the school, got in my car and drove an hour to Papá's hospital. After Mamá died, he finally went to a hospital worthy of his talent; that's how he landed the NYU gig. So I drove all the way to Fort Wayne. It actually should have taken me longer but I was on a mission. He served me that exact wisdom and it did nothing to ease the pain of knowing that I lost the love of my life at my own idiotic hand. It definitely stuck with me, though and over time that truth helped me to learn from the mistake I had made.

As right as he still is, that knowledge isn't quelling my fear at the moment, "But what if-"

"I don't know and neither will you if you don't stay here and wait for her to come out of that door."

Loud cheers erupt from the crowd surrounding the stage door and I stop breathing for moment.

"No es ella," Papá says, putting his arm around my shoulders to calm me down, "it's her costar."

I let out the breath I was holding and look down at the ground. I don't even know what to say when I see her. I mean, there's always 'hi,' but what comes after that?

As I'm staring down at the ground, even louder cheers erupt from crowd making me look up immediately.

"Is that her?" I ask, grasping at the bottom of Papá's jacket.

"No sé," he answers. He's standing on his tip toes and he can't see who walked out of the door.

It could be her.

She's only 5'2" and there are plenty of people standing in our line of vision to make seeing her impossible.

"Rachel!"

Ohmygoditisher.

"Papá…?"

"Mija…?" he responds and holds my shoulders tighter.

"I can't do this," I feel panic coursing through my veins and my chest getting tight.

"Yes you can, mija," he squeezes me again, "Just say 'hi' and tell her how amazing she was."

"She really was," I say feeling the pressure in my chest lighten just slightly.

"Also, mija, this is a surprise for her, too."

Oh. My. God.

This is the worst! I didn't even think of that! Here I am thinking about how unprepared I am for this and Rachel doesn't even know I'm standing here! This is like, a sneak attack! She's going to hate me!

I duck out from under his arm and twist my body so that I'm standing directly in front of him and looking right at him, "Papá, this is not a good-"

"Dr. Lopez?"

I can't even move.

"Hola, Rachel!" he smiles and peeks around me to talk to the girl who just uttered his name. Through his smile he mutters, "Mija, turn around."

I close my eyes for a moment and exhale. For good measure, I take in a another breath and in a fruitless attempt to calm my nerves, exhale as I slowly turn to face where that gorgeous sound came from.

"Hi," I breathe meekly as my eyes meet hers.

Surprised isn't a good enough word to describe the look that I'm met with, however shock is perhaps a bit too strong. I see her lick her lips before her jaw goes slightly slack and then, this quarter smile tugs at the corner of her lips. Then my eyes wander down some more. She's wearing this simple v-neck t-shirt and jeans and I can't help but think how sexy the simplicity is. The t-shirt hugs her in _all_ of the right places and her legs are still unbelievable. My eyes wander back up to the skin that the v-neck reveals and probably stay there a little too long.

"Hi," I hear her say and I know they were there far too long. My eyes shoot back up and they're met with a smile. There's a genuine smile on her face and I can feel my heart pound even harder than it has been.

"You were fantastic!" I hear Papá say from behind me.

"You saw the show tonight?" her face gets a little pink as she asks and I am accosted by the adorableness that she still exudes.

"Papá called in some favors," I finally find my voice. It's shaky, I know it is, but I can't just stand here and stare at her. At lease I'm aware of that.

"Well," she stands up a little straighter, the blush gone, "these are just the previews. We're still working some things out. You're definitely going to have to come after we open."

"But you were amazing," I say it without even thinking about it. The words 'just like I always knew you'd be,' stayed in my head though. Too much, too soon.

"Thank you," I can see her blush again, but she perks back up immediately, "You know what? Why don't I take you two backstage? They're still working on a few things in there and I can keep you guys out of their way so it shouldn't be a problem."

Her words aren't as big, but she's still using a little too many and it's wonderful. I can feel myself smiling.

"That sounds marvelous," Papá answers for us and puts his hand on my back lightly to nudge me forward.

Looks like I don't have an option.

"Come on," Rachel starts turning and waves us back towards the stage door.

Letting my panic get the best of me, "You don't have like, an after party or something?" Hey, I don't know how this shit works, I'm a Poli Sci major.

"No," she laughs and turns to me, "that was last night. No one cares about night two." Her chuckles continue as she addresses the... I guess he's a bouncer… "Hey, Joe, mind letting me back in there?" Then, she pouts at him. He rolls his eyes, stretches his keys from his belt and opens the door.

Still works like a charm.

"Come on, Tana. This is a good sign," Papá mutters into my ear as he pushes me forward and through the door.

"Welcome to my home away from home!" she holds out her arms as she backs up into the back stage area.

You know, as terrifying as this is, it feels really great to see her… in person. She is so happy. The smile on her face is so bright and beautiful and her eyes are just glowing at everything they meet with. I think I might actually be grateful that Papá blindsided me with this.

"This is really something else, Rachel," Papá says as he looks up into the flies above the stage.

"I know," I hear her reply and as I look back towards her, I see her head snap back towards my father. Was she just staring at me? Well, now I'm staring at her. God, how can I not? She's perf… ect…

She just caught me…

My face must be so pink… oh god. Hey floor! How's life treatin' ya? Not so good? Tired of being walked all over? Hold on a sec, I have to check something really quick… AAHH! I caught her! She was staring at me! And we're back to pink cheeks.

I feel like I'm in the seventh grade, when _everything_ is awkward. You're stuck dealing with all of the shit happening to your body and your brain and they're never on the same page. And on top of that you have to deal with everyone else who are going through the same shit you are, making _everything_ awkward all the time. Right now, I feel like Rachel is the really cute girl in my English class that I can't stop looking at, but because everything is awkward, she can't know.

"Uuuuhhh… I don't think we can go on the stage right this second, but I could take you up to see my dressing room," she starts walking deeper into the the theatre, "I have my own."

"Sure!" Papá responds and begins to follow her.

I guess I still don't have a choice. I definitely don't when Papá is shoving me ahead of him.

"Oh my goodness, would you look at that," Papá's hand isn't on my back anymore and I stop dead in my tracks… so does Rachel, "I had no idea how late it was! ¡Ay dios mio! I have some grading to get done. You two should go on. I can remember how to get back."

"Papá?" I mutter through gritted teeth, "What are you doing?"

Everything is awkward.

"Rachel it was an absolute pleasure to see you and you were truly magnificent tonight," he looks beyond me and gives her one of his adoring smiles and I'm reminded that he always did love her. I'm quickly torn out of that reverie as I feel him wrap his arms around me and hear him whisper, "Te amo y tratas de mantener el pie de tu boca."

I can certainly think of another place to put my foot, though.

"Buenos noches," he backs away and waves to us and I just stare as he exits out through the door we came in.

"Why do I have a feeling there's no grading to be done?" I hear Rachel laugh lightly behind me and even though it's just a little, it's still music to my ears.

It's so weird. Yes, everything is awkward, but being near her feels… right. It shouldn't feel like this, should it? See I don't know, I don't have anything to go off of. I've never tried to win someone back before.

That's what I'm doing right now, isn't it? Trying to win her back? It's only just hit me. I'm thinking it's a little late for me to be realizing that. It's probably because this wan't my plan.

"He thinks he's my wingman," I say as I turn back to her and immediately regret it. Hey mouth, here's my foot.

She laughs a little again, looks down at the floor, tucks a piece of her lightly curled, ombre hair behind her ear and says, "He isn't too bad at it."

What. Does that. Mean?

"Hey," she looks past one of the teaser curtains, "I think they're done on the stage if you want to…" she nods towards it.

I simply nod and follow her to the stage. I might check out her butt as we're walking and it might be even better than I remember.

"Usually you can't see the audience because of the lights, but" she shrugs as she turns back to look at me, "this is what it's like to be on a Broadway stage."

"I'm sorry, for this," I say from my safe eight feet of distance from her. I'd let her keep wandering towards center stage and stopped up left, "I didn't know he was bringing me here… if I'd known I probably would have…" I stop there because I don't know what I would have done… I probably wouldn't have come. It's not like I could have warned her.

"Not come?" I see the slightest inkling of sadness in her eyes as she says it.

"Probably," I answer through my own bafflement of how she can read me so easily, "But then I would have missed you being amazing in your dream role."

At some point I… or we started walking towards each other because that eight feet has turned into about three and there's this tension just hanging there. Once again, it's weird. I can feel all of these familiar things, but there's something different. It's a little scary, but it isn't bad.

"Hey, Rach, I've gotta lock up in like, three," a voice comes from who the fuck knows where.

"Okay, Katie! Come on," she turns back to me and nods back towards the stage door, "Sorry I didn't get to show you more."

"Believe me, this is more than anything I was expecting," I say and I can feel too much oxygen leaving my lungs as I say it.

She turns back and gives me this sweet, adorable smile and my heart does that thing where I feel like it's actually melting. When she opens the door to go back outside, I'm half expecting there to still be a crowd of people there. Everyone is pretty much gone. Actually, the only people left are the bouncer guy and Rachel's driver standing next to her car.

"It was really nice to see you, Santana," she says my name for the first time tonight and just hearing it in her voice feels like I've been missing something for the last two years.

"Yeah, I'm glad my Dad dragged me here," I chuckle a little and hope she remembers that sarcasm is my third language.

She smiles at me, then takes the few steps to the open car door waiting for her. She turns around before she gets in and says, "Be safe."

Umm… I mean, I am taking the subway at like, 11PM but it's not like it's that big of a deal. I hope my face doesn't show that I think that was a little weird. It probably does. Before I can show that I'm berating myself, I see Rachel do it to herself. She scrunches up her nose slightly and shakes her head before turning to get in the car. I'm suddenly reminded that this is just as awkward for her and even more unexpected.

I also hear the thought of 'You _need_ to see her again,' ring through my head.

"Rachel, wait," I jog the eight steps to her car and get to her before her driver can shut the door. Oh god what the fuck am I going to say? Wait, what do I want? Oh, "Can I see you again? I mean, I see you every day in the Subway, but I mean… in… person."

I am the biggest moron.

But she's laughing.

"I'd like that," she keeps laughing lightly, "Um… text me… or call, whatever," she shakes her head a little, "I have a new number though. A New York one."

"Oh, um yeah," I fumble with my bag to get to my phone. I know I still have her in there, "Let me just umm…" find her contact…

**Rach****❤️**

Oh god she can't see that heart! I can't believe I left that. Well, not anymore.

After I get rid of the heart and add the E and L back into her name, I hand her my phone so that she can put her new number in it. When she hands it back to me, I look at it and immediately smile. Why? I don't know, but with it still on my face I look up and say, "See you soon, Rachel," then back away from her so that her driver can take her home.

I guess I should thank Papá, huh?

~:~:~

"You're dad has the biggest balls!"

I had to tell _someone_ about this. And who better than my best friend?

"Britt, don't say that. Ew."

"You know what I mean, San," Brittany rolls her eyes at me from over 2000 miles away.

"Doesn't mean I want you talking about my Dad's… blech," I gag, "Or anyone's actually."

"You're so gay," she laughs and then tears into a slice of pizza. Now it's my turn for an eye roll. "So, anyways, he just left you there with her? Then what?"

"Well, it was sufficiently awkward, that's for sure, but it's not like I was trying to run away from her…"

"Because you had all these feelings happening, right?" she gets a little pixelated and stuck as she says that so I can't really see her facial expression, but she says it in a way reminiscent of a time when this was something I didn't want to talk about.

But, I'm a much different person, "Exactly. Britt, even though it was awkward, it felt right being near her. And I felt so many of the same things I felt for her when we were together, but it was different. I don't know how to explain it. Like, I don't think I could even begin to try."

"Are you going to try to see her again?" she asks getting closer to her screen and with so much excitement.

"She gave me her new number," I give her this awkward, but giddy smile.

"Oh my god you have to text her like, now!" she's shaking her hands with this urgency that is so unnecessary.

"Britt, it's midnight here-"

"I know what time it is! Here plus three," she rolls her eyes again, "Who cares if she's asleep, it will be there when she wakes up. She'll know you're serious about this! Don't go days without saying anything to her."

I know what she's saying. I know what she's referring to and I'm internally thanking her for not _actually_ saying it. She's totally right though. As per usual.

"Okay," I say pulling my phone across my coffee table. I sit there contemplating for a moment and draw a complete blank, "What do I say?"

"Uhh…"

"Oh, great. Thanks for the help, B," another eye roll.

"Tell her she was amazing tonight," Brittany says quickly.

Okay, yeah, that's good. It's pretty neutral I guess.

With my bottom lip wedged between my teeth, I type out the message:

_Hey, Rachel. You really were amazing tonight._

I hit send before I can second guess myself and put my phone back down.

"Now that wasn't so hard wa-"

She must have heard my phone buzz on the table.

"It's her…" I say as I pick up my phone. I slide the green icon across and enter my passcode:

**Rachel:  
**Who is this?

"What? What did she say?" Brittany must see the panic on my face. But my phone buzzes again and a new grey bubble pops up:

_I'm just kidding. Thank you, Santana._

I breathe out this sigh of relief. I don't know why. It really shouldn't have surprised me if she'd deleted my number. It does make me feel more confident knowing that she didn't though.

And another grey bubble buzzes in:

_Though I am quite sleepy right now, it would be wonderful to plan something. I told Kurt that you were at the show tonight and he would love the chance to catch up._

"What now?" Brittany's asking with such urgency but I can't pull my eyes away from her adorableness.

And we're buzzing again. She is still the fastest texter:

_And I'd love that, too._

Just seeing the word love in relation to me is making my heart pound.

Okay, what's the perfect response…

"Whatever it is, tell her you'll call her," I give Brittany 'really?' eyes because she is _really_ driving that home. I'm not going to say that.

Instead:

_I can't wait._

But then after I hit send, I feel like that's not enough and because I'm nervous even in some text messages I type:

_I'll text you tomorrow. Goodnight, Rachel._

That feels good.

One more buzz and a grey bubble:

_Goodnight, Santana._

It most certainly is.

~:~:~

**Te amo y tratas de mantener el pie de tu boca.** - I love you and try to keep your foot out of your mouth.

* * *

**A/N: See you again on Friday. Now it's back to work. I'm almost done.**


	8. Isn't It Funny

I am notoriously impatient. It generally works in my favor as I channel it into my drive to succeed, but there are the few times when it leaves me heartbroken. Even then, I have a hard time giving something up. It's just in my nature.

Because of my notorious impatience, it came as no surprise to my fathers that I wanted to move to New York City immediately after graduation. Lucky for me, Kurt was on board. Our parents put us up in a hotel long enough for us to find a place and on July 1, 2012 we moved into our first New York City apartment. It's in Bushwick which is right smack in the middle of Brooklyn, but it's ours and it's perfect.

The following September I started at Pace University. It wasn't my first choice or my second… but to be fair, my first choice doesn't have a musical theatre program, so technically, Pace was actually my second choice. It's a good school and believe me, I wasn't disappointed, I'm driven, remember?

Things were alright at Pace. I had this one dance professor… this washed up Broadway star that had a Patti LuPone freak out onstage once, except that she isn't Patti LuPone and couldn't get away with it. She kind of made my life a living hell.

But remember, I'm driven and notoriously impatient.

One day Kurt tossed a copy of Backstage at me. It was blatantly flipped to the open auditions section. My eyes found what he wanted me to see immediately.

**Funny Girl Revival**

Of course I went. I got a callback… and a second callback… then a third. Then one day, I was in that damn dance class watching someone get told to "pas de bourrée again" and I heard my phone going off. I never forget to put it on silent. Guess who started freaking out? I fumbled to get to it and when I did, I recognized the number. I remember this moment exactly. I calmly said to my professor, "I have to take this," and left the room with my phone. I answered with a nervous, "Hello?"

"Hi. Rachel?" a male voice that I knew was the director's asked.

"Yes?" my heart was pounding so hard I barely heard myself say it.

"I just wanted to call you to tell you that I'm sorry," he paused and my heart immediately sank into my stomach, "I'm sorry, but you might need to start working out a deal with Pace, because we're going to need _a lot_ of your time. You're Fanny Brice."

And then I screamed. I screamed right into the phone and right into his ear but I didn't care because I got it! I got Fanny!

"So, do you accept?" I heard him chuckle.

"Yes! A million times yes!"

"Fantastic. First table should be in a couple weeks. Our stage manager will probably contact you later. Oh and we're going to have get you an Equity card so you'll be eligible. I can't wait to work with you, Rachel."

I said thank you and bye, then I went into the classroom where everyone watched as I grabbed my things and walked back out.

That's when my dreams started to come true.

Isn't it funny that you can have everything in your life going exactly the way you wanted it to and then in one moment, everything is derailed? It's hilarious really.

One second I was just signing Playbills and taking photos with the fans I've always wanted, thinking that everything in my life is perfect right now. I have more than I could have ever dreamed of at age nineteen. As I was walking away to go to my car, sitting on cloud nine, my entire world came crashing off of it.

I knew it was her before I saw her father. She wasn't even facing me but I could recognize that... her anywhere. And anytime, clearly.

Two years. Two years of working on myself to become the strong, self-driven woman I've always seen myself as and I couldn't even muster the courage to say her name. Besides, it would have been tremendously embarrassing for me if she knew that I could recognize her based on her legs and her ass. I _needed_ to acknowledge them though and I could just say 'hello' to them, exchange some pleasantries, then get in my car and go home to Brooklyn.

But she turned around.

I can't fathom how it's possible, but she is even more gorgeous than she was in high school.

We've lived in the same city for over a year. It's been two years since everything ended. Why now? Why now when everything in my life has fallen into place so perfectly? Why is this the moment that Santana Lopez enters back into my life?

My real question is: Why do I want Santana Lopez to enter back into my life?

I knew she was checking me out. Actually, I think I could feel her checking me out. I wasn't wearing anything spectacular, just jeans and a t-shirt, but I felt her eyes move up and down my body nonetheless. I liked it and there was simply no stopping the smile that appeared on my face. And she was so nervous. She was nervous to the point where I felt better about being in the situation. That's why I invited them backstage.

I couldn't stop staring at her. I'd look at her when her eyes were trained somewhere else but whenever her head started to move, I'd snap mine away. I'm sure she caught me, but I couldn't help myself. Then her father left. Cris. I'd somehow forgotten how wonderful he is. I think I realized as he was saying goodbye to me that he was leaving for me just as much as he was leaving for Santana. He is a pretty decent wingman.

It was awkward, I'll admit that easily, but I didn't feel the need to get myself out of the situation. What was even better was that she could have left with her father, but she didn't. She stayed there with me. She stayed through the awkwardness until we weren't allowed to anymore. She's just so... different. I spent probably ten minutes with her and barely spoke to her, but I know she's different and I simply can't help that I'm drawn to her again. Part of me wishes that I wasn't, but the other part is the one that gave her my number. It's also the part that got giddy when she texted me _that_ night. Like a sixteen year old girl.

Nineteen year old me needs to protect herself though and not get distracted when sixteen year old me gets excited that Santana texts something like "I'll text you tomorrow" because what if she doesn't?

Except she did and we actually made plans. They're being chaperoned of course by Kurt, but we still have plans. Today. Two days after our surprise reunion.

Everything about this is Kurt's plan. He thought that we should do something simple, something that would allow all of us to talk. It also needed to be in a place that was easy to get to... and get away from. He thought that a picnic dinner in Central Park was the perfect catching up activity for the three of us.

The plan is as follows: Tate, my driver, is bringing Kurt to meet me at the theatre. He's bringing the blanket and beverages. Initially, Kurt had offered to make dinner as well, but Santana insisted upon preparing it. Remembering how amazing her food always was, Kurt and I had no objections. I did inform her that eggs and milk are available ingredients as I've changed my diet to vegetarian. I do hope that it isn't difficult for her to carry whatever she's making on the subway... Anyways, I picked up some cupcakes on my way to work... which is a Broadway show... I'm still getting used to the fact that this is my job. The show's been running at about two hours and ten minutes plus the ten minute intermission, 2:05 start time and the ten minutes it takes me to make myself look normal, so I'm out of the theatre at about 4:35. Then we had to factor in ten to fifteen minutes of stage door time. We're meeting Santana at Sheep Meadow at 5:30.

We have about an hour and a half of daylight to decide if we want to spend more time with her. However, we don't have a plan for that other than if we do… spend more time with her, we have to give Tate the blanket and take the subway home. We're already keeping him late by having him wait until sunset.

"How'd it go today?" Kurt asks me as soon as my door is closed behind me.

"Great," I smile, "I think we're really starting to get things solidified."

"Wow! And you don't even open for another three weeks! Maybe they should bump it up," he laughs.

I know he's joking, but still, "Anything could happen Kurt."

"Oh, I know," he says it in this weird tone and I know that we aren't talking about Funny Girl anymore, "So, are you ready?"

"Are you?" I deflect his question back because even though I know he's being my caring best friend, he's being really queenie about it and quite honestly, it's gross. I think somehow Kurt's managed to get gayer since moving to New York. Not gayer in the sense that he likes men more, because what sense does that make, but gayer as in all of the stereotypes that we fight so hard against. But I digress.

"She didn't rip my heart out and leave me there to bleed to death," he says it somehow both seriously and full of melodrama.

"Alright, first of all," I hold up my hand at him, "that is far too graphic and second, I broke up with her, remember?"

"Right, _after_ she tore your heart out," Kurt is clearly sticking with this.

"I really think you're using too harsh of a metaphor," I narrow my eyes at him. While yes, Santana did cause me _a lot_ of pain, it was two years ago and I have since moved on. His need to rehash these past events is nothing but overly dramatic.

"I just… I don't want to see you hurt again," he finally says something with a genuine tone. "You know I'll always support you no matter what," I give him a look because that isn't entirely true, he didn't support my decision to drop out of Pace, "Okay, maybe not everything, but when it comes to your love life, I always have," that is true, "but I just want you to be careful."

"I've seen her one time, Kurt," I say it with the agitation I'm feeling. At what point did I say that I'm contemplating getting myself into a relationship with Santana? Oh that's right, I didn't. I failed to mention all of the parts indicating that I was terribly attracted to her for all of the ten minutes that we were together for this very reason.

"I saw your face when you got that text message," he says in his 'oh, please, honey' tone.

He's so lucky my phone is vibrating.

**Santana:  
**Hey, just got off at 66th. I should be there in five. Can't wait to see you guys.

I wonder if she put 'guys' in there as an afterthought? I would have.

"It looked a lot like that," I hear him say in a very annoyingly satisfied tone.

He's caught me grinning with sheer glee over a seemingly meaningless text message.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, "I promise I am guarding my heart with all of the force that I have." I open my eyes and turn my head to him, "I've only seen her for ten minutes and you know as well as I do, that isn't enough time to make any decisions. Besides, I don't even know if that's what she's trying to do."

"But what if it is?"

"We're here, Miss Berry," Tate calls back to me from the front seat.

"Thanks, Tate!" I turn to the front seat but Kurt keeps his eyes trained on me. He isn't going to let me get away without answering this. I turn back to him and give him the answer that I gave myself when I asked the same question, "Then she has a lot of work to do."

"Okay," he says simply, then turns out of the car.

Tate won't open the door into the street so I have to slide across the seat to get out of the car. It leaves me feeling like my shirt is all disheveled so once I'm upright, I look down at and brush at it with my hands to make it feel right. It's just another of my many v-neck t-shirts. I've simplified my wardrobe a little bit, mostly just for after shows because after over two hours of wearing period clothing, I want nothing more than to be comfortable. And I might have worn this because someone seemed to like it the last time I saw her.

When I finally look up from my shirt, my eyes land on her. Of course they do. She isn't paying attention to what's going on in front of her, she's too busy looking at something on her phone. She looks pretty agitated by what she's looking at… and swiping at. And now she's pissed at her phone.

"Get your lip out from between your teeth before she sees you and thinks you're easy," Kurt bumps me with his hip, "and grab the bag from Tate."

I give him my best glare before going to the back of the car to take whatever drinks Kurt brought. "Thanks, Tate," I smile as he hands the bag to me.

"You're welcome, Miss Berry," he smiles and tips his hat at me.

It makes me laugh every time he does it, "You're never going to call me Rachel, are you?"

"Probably not, Miss Berry. Seven o'clock?"

"Yes, it's still a maybe on the ride, but yes. Thank you," I start to back up, back onto the sidewalk.

"It's my pleasure, Miss Berry," he smiles and waits for me to turn around before he walks to the driver's door. He always does. He also always waits for me to get into my apartment building before getting into his car, too. I feel like in a way he's also my bodyguard. He probably is and I just don't know it because I didn't hire him, my manager did. Yes, I have a manager… later.

"You look Candy Crushed," I hear Kurt call out.

"I fucking hate this game, but I _keep_ playing it and it's so stupid! I don't know what's wrong with me," Santana nearly yells as she buries her phone into her pocket, then she smiles at him, "It's nice to see you, too, Lady Hummel."

"Feelings are mutual, Satan," he laughs and they one armed hug each other. They're both carrying things. Kurt has the oversized blanket and Santana has a picnic basket. Who actually has a picnic basket? Santana is probably the last person I'd ever think owned a picnic basket. Kurt is probably the first and he doesn't have one.

"Hi, Rachel," Santana smiles shyly at me once she's out from under Kurt's arm. This timidness that she keeps showing is so far from anything I know. It's actually really cute; not one of the words I would have used to describe Santana when we were together.

"Hi," I smile back her and out of pure instinct I initiate a hug. I couldn't have been thinking because I don't think I would have consciously chosen to put myself into something so awkward. I wish I could say that it's awkward because she only has one arm to hug me with or that the picnic basket got in the way or that we weren't sure which side to go to. It wasn't because of any of those things. It's awkward because we once had a sexual relationship. I know that sounds like a ridiculous and perhaps even juvenile conclusion to jump to, but I know it's true. I know it's true because simply hugging her brought me back to that. It reminded me that I knew her intimately.

Your sense of smell has the strongest connection to memory. I know I said that I could tell that she's different, but there's one thing about her that I know for sure hasn't changed: she smells the same.

I think I could have stayed there until the sun set and _that_ is terrifying to me. That just the way her clothes and skin smell could yank at my heart so easily is exactly why I need to be cautious.

She breaks the hug just a millisecond before I can, but not before I hear that she's breathing with a slight heaviness. It only tugs at my heart even more.

"We're going to run out of sunlight," I fight through my own heavier breathing pattern and look between Santana and Kurt with a crooked smile.

"After you," Santana gestures for both Kurt and me to enter the park and after we've passed her, he gives me a look. I know what he wants to say to me, but I'm pretty sure I've already told myself.

Sheep Meadow isn't very far from the West 65th Street entrance of the Park and we get there in less than two minutes. It does take a little more time to find the perfect spot, however. I like this section of Central Park. It's just a huge open space and on a nice day like today, it's filled with New Yorkers just hanging out.

"So, whatcha got in there?" Kurt asks once we're all settled on the blanket. He brought the biggest one we have, the one that we had designated as the park blanket the first time we picnicked in CP… no one says that, I should just stop. Anyways, this blanket is huge, thankfully because it allows us to be spaced out enough that it isn't obvious that I don't want to be sitting too close to Santana. Not because I'm afraid she'll try something, that's ridiculous, but because, well, I don't think I trust myself.

"Well," Santana opens up her picnic basket, "fingers crossed that this is still warm and that you both still like this," she pulls out a decent sized container that she's wrapped in tin foil and upon unwrapping and de-lidding says, "eggplant parmesan. Made with real cheese." Her eyes move up from the container and catch mine. I can tell that she's looking for my approval and I might be jumping to conclusions here, which I'm sometimes really good at, but I think she's just answered the question of her intentions.

"That looks so good," Kurt basically moans as he leans forward to see inside of the container.

"It is," Santana assures him confidently.

"Still conceited I see," Kurt mumbles as he sits back into his place.

That was unnecessary, "Kurt, she wasn't-"

"Thanks Rach, but he's right, I was," she rolls her eyes at herself as she digs some plates out of the basket, "I try to reserve it for _just_ my cooking now. It's really all I've got." She's laughing at herself. She just made a self deprecating joke and she laughing at it. And I don't think she heard herself call me Rach.

"You go to Columbia, I highly doubt that all you have going for you are your culinary skills," I scoff at her for selling herself short.

"Eh, cooking is more fun than pulling a 3.8 GPA, believe me," she chuckles handing Kurt a plate. If there's a tactful way of bragging, that's it.

"Santana, that's amazing," I can't let her just glide over that and because I'm so excited for her, I scoot towards her a little more.

"It's not _that_ great," she rolls her eyes and cuts into a piece of eggplant on her plate, "it should be a little higher if I want to get into a first tier law school, but I just started my sophomore year, I have time." She smiles and shrugs then takes a bite of her eggplant.

"San, don't sell yourself short, a 3.8 after your freshman year is unbelievable. Most people are lucky if they get a 3.2!" I had a 3.2 at the end of my freshman year. One of the deciding factors in dropping out.

Did I just call her San?

"I… I um…"

"This is delicious," Kurt disrupts Santana's stuttering with a distracting compliment.

She shakes her head slightly then turns it to Kurt, "Thanks. What about you guys? You've been here since we graduated. Besides Broadway for this one," she throws her thumb in my direction, "what's life been like?"

"Well," Kurt turns on his gossip voice which is silly because none of what he's about to say is a secret, "I got an internship with working for the editor in chief-"

"That is actually perfect-"

"I know, right?" I jump in after Santana.

"Anyways," he purses his lips at me for a moment then continues, "It changed my life and instead of trying to get into AMDA again, I applied to the Fashion Institute and now I'm the star of my class."

"Alright, Lady Hummel! Now I know who's designing all of my badass lawyer suits," Santana says with a clap.

"While it isn't my area of expertise, I guess I could fashion some hot, boss bitch attire for you. I'm thinking, Olivia Pope with a power lesbian twist," he squints one of his eyes and holds up his fingers like a 'director.'

"You'd look hot in anything, though."

Did that just come out of my mouth? I'm really hoping that didn't actually leave my head and come spilling out all over this picnic. Based on the silence and the clear pink that I can see in Santana's cheeks through my side glance _and_ in the dimming light, I'm going to say yes, yes I did say that out loud.

"Even if that's true I'm not putting you in a trash bag," Kurt comes to my rescue and even though it isn't the best deflection, Santana still laughs at it and all isn't lost.

Except a silence falls back over us. Silence gives us a chance to eat, but it also allows my eyes to wander onto Santana. I'm still fairly embarrassed over what I let slip out of my mouth, but I'm not sorry. I saw what it did to her and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to see it again. She keeps looking over at me, too, but unlike the last time, she wants me to know it. It's making my stomach flutter and I know I like it, but I don't know if I should.

"So," she picks her head up from her plate and from the glances she's been sending to me, "Brooklyn, huh? Papá lives in Williamsburg."

"We're in Bushwick!" I respond excitedly because the neighborhoods are right next to each other.

"Oh, Papá is going to love that!" she laughs, "You guys are practically neighbors."

"How long has he been there?" Kurt asks because it's probably been a while that we've lived so close and have never seen him.

"Well, he had to be here in August of last year to start teaching at NYU, but he didn't find that place until the beginning of September-"

"Wait, so, you guys sold your house?" I ask and once it's out I realize it's a pretty dumb question.

"Yeah, we live here now, like for real," she smiles and shrugs, "I live up in Morningside by Columbia and he lives in Williamsburg. His place is much nicer than mine, but he pays most of the bills so it's only fair. What else would we have done with the house?"

"I don't know," I shake my head, "I guess I just wasn't making the right connections."

"Because our parents stayed in Ohio," Kurt makes the connection that I couldn't, but that's exactly it. If we go back there, the houses that we grew up in will still be there for us, she doesn't have that anymore. I guess for her though, her house didn't have the same kind of memories that ours do.

"Right."

"It's cool," she smiles a genuine… and gorgeous smile, "we're happy with this. It was like, a fresh start. I think we both really needed it. I feel like I belong here."

Right in this moment, my body is attempting to betray me. It is screaming at me to kiss her. My brain is aware of far too much for my body to get the best of it, however and I stay in my place on this blanket.

"We are rapidly running out of sunlight," Kurt's voice enters into my ears and I realize that he's right.

"Oh shit, it's ten minutes to seven," Santana says, glancing at her phone then upon putting it back in her pocket, starts cleaning things up. She pulls a plastic shopping bag from the picnic basket and puts all of our disposable eating materials into it. "You guys can have what's left of this," she says pointing to the container that is still half full of eggplant parmesan, "I actually have some still back at my apartment."

"Thanks!" Kurt says enthusiastically, grabbing the container and placing it on the grass temporarily.

"I'll be right back," Santana says backing away towards a trash can.

Kurt and I start to fold the blanket up and he wastes no time, "Really, Rach?"

"You know what?" I know what he's talking about already, "I don't care. So maybe she wants something? Maybe I want to see how things go? You were here. She's different and I can't help it if I want to… get to know her again." I actually feel my stomach flutter thinking about doing just that.

"Okay," he says lightly and nods, "Just, take things slow."

That's the complete opposite of how we started the first time and you know what, "That's exactly what I want." I look up from the folding the blanket and make eye contact with Santana as she's walking back to us. She smiles at me as soon as our eyes meet and I give one right back.

"This was fun," she says when she gets back to us.

"You know, this doesn't _have_ to end," Kurt says for me as we start walking out of Sheep Meadow, reaffirming that he's supporting my decision, "We can tell Tate to beat it and find something else to do… preferably in doors and in some lights."

"As much as I would love to, I really can't," she looks genuinely disappointed, "Despite reading all day before cooking and coming here, I still have a _ton_ more and a case analysis that I'm still not sure how to do. Believe me, I'd much rather be with you."

It's getting dark quickly, but I _know_ she said that to me.

"It's okay, we can make more plans," I smile as we make it to the light of the sidewalk outside of the park.

"Perfect," she breathes out and our eyes linger on each other for a little too long. It's only too long because there's someone else here. If it were just two of us… actually, if it were just the two of us here, I don't think we'd still be standing this far apart.

"Well, it was fantastic catching up, Santana. We should definitely do this again," Kurt cuts into what was probably a very awkward moment for him.

"Definitely," Santana replies and gives him a hug.

She then turns back to me and softly asks, "I'll talk to you soon?"

For some reason all I can do is nod and then she's hugging me again. Again, there's that intoxicating scent that is Santana. I close my eyes this time and nearly drown in it. It takes almost everything I have to loosen myself away from her after Kurt clears his throat.

As we part ways, Santana walking up towards 66th Street and Kurt and I across the sidewalk to the car, we wave at each other. They're cute and simple and my stomach is fluttering again.

"Slow," Kurt warns me as Tate opens the door for us.

I look over the door and spot her crossing the street. I take a deep breath as waves of fear and exhilaration wash through me. Then once I'm in the car, I close my eyes and breathe out, "I know."

She has a lot of work to do.

* * *

**A/N: For those of you that are worried about following this and it not getting finished: I'm writing the last chapter now. Don't worry, I'm way ahead of you. So just sit back and enjoy the ride.**


	9. Uncharted Realm

So, I think that Rachel and I _might_ be friends. I know I sound really hesitant by emphasizing the word might, but things are kind of weird. It isn't bad or anything, it's just something different I guess.

We've been meeting up a couple times a week for about a month and every time we've had at least one chaperone. The first time it was with Kurt and the entire time I felt like I was there with Rachel's protective older brother, which is weird because Lady Hummel has never intimidated me before. Despite that, our first "play date" was amazing. She hugged me and even though I only had one arm around her, it felt so good having her there. I almost dropped Papá's picnic basket so that I could pull her closer because I'd made the mistake of inhaling through my nose. I take that back, it wasn't a mistake, it was more of an oversight and a failure to realize how powerful sense-memory is.

Anyways, after the short but successful picnic in the park, we planned more group… dates… I guess. The next one included Kurt, Blaine and Sam. Apparently, Blaine and Sam became bros during their senior year and even refer to themselves as Blam on occasion. It's actually pretty cool, mostly because Sam seems to be okay with Blaine's blatant crush on him… despite being with Kurt again… and I don't think Kurt notices. Or maybe he does and he and Blaine are conspiring a way to turn Sam and recruit him into some polyamorous… thing. Or you know… not. Whatever, it was fun and I got to spend time with Rachel.

One time she came to meet me at Columbia and we had lunch with a few of the friends I've made here. All they wanted to talk about was Funny Girl and how they were so jealous. I actually hardly got a word in edgewise. I got to watch her though and she is so adorable. She's so humble and I'll be honest, I actually didn't think she would be when she achieved this. I know, it's not the nicest thing for me to think, but humble was not a way that I would describe Rachel Berry in high school. But now that all of this has happened to her, she's noticeably grateful. I can also tell that she isn't used to having people recognize her in places.

Oh, one time she and Sam met me at a Starbucks and we had a Google Hangout with Brittany and Quinn. _That_ was interesting. We were all trying to squeeze into the camera on my MacBook and I was in the middle. Rachel was so close to me. At one point, I got so lost in her being that close to me, I forgot literally everything and my hand slid onto her leg. I didn't even notice that I'd done it. I didn't notice until someone else did:

"Hey, Rachel, are you okay?" Brittany interrupted our, well, mostly Sam and Quinn's, conversation about Gay-Straight Alliances which I really didn't care about because well, I couldn't give two shits about them. I figured the last thing the conversation needed was me bitching about how I thought they were just a place for straight people to feel like they have a purpose and for bisexual people to attempt to feel welcome somewhere. That would have triggered a rant from Quinn about how bi-phobia is running rampant within the gay community and while I agree with her wholeheartedly, I stand by my theories on GSAs.

"Yes, Brittany, sorry," I saw her head shake out of the corner of my eye, then her hand fell on top of mine. That's when I realized where it was. It's absolutely insane that something so simple as her hand touching mine could set off so much in my body. My heart started throbbing and my stomach did that fluttery thing that was so hard for me to get used to. "I guess I just zoned out. I've never really cared for GSAs," she shrugs, "I feel like straight people go into them all high and mighty because they're 'supportive' and bisexual people go looking for acceptance."

"Well…" and the rant that I thought I was avoiding started. I don't think Rachel saw it coming and as Quinn spewed out all of her facts and feelings on the subject, Rachel's fingers interlocked with mine and she squeezed out what I think was laughter. I did hear her snort very lightly and it was the most adorable thing.

See, this is why I emphasized the word 'might.' Yeah, it seems like a friendship is what's developing between us at the moment, but every time I'm near her, it gets harder and harder not to fall into what I know. I spend more time away from Rachel than I do with her and it gives me a lot of time to think about what's happening between us. Granted, we text often so it feels like we're always in contact with each other, but reading something someone says isn't the same as seeing someone when they say it. I realized that Rachel and I don't know how to be friends. We've _never_ _been_ friends. We weren't friends before we were together and we definitely weren't friends after we broke up. All we know is how to be together and how to not be together, there's no middle ground. And now we're here two years later, trying figure out how to exist in this uncharted realm of friendship and I'm pretty sure we're failing.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that this is an all or nothing situation. I mean, that's usually how I go at most things, but this is a little different. There are hearts at stake here and I'm finding that I care way more about Rachel's than my own. I can't hurt her again. I _won't_ hurt her again.

When she broke up with me, I told her that I wasn't going to stop fighting for her. I meant it and even though it's a long time coming, I'm going to prove it to her.

~:~:~

"Hey, Puckerman! How much longer until you grace me with your disgusting presence?" I answer my phone as I unlock the door to my apartment. Puck is in New York for a week for something Air Force related. Clearly it isn't for Fleet Week because a) it's October and b) he isn't in the Navy. Who knows what he's here for, but we made plans to meet up with Rachel, Kurt and Blaine. I just so happen to have this Monday afternoon free because two of my professors are at some conference at Princeton… gross... but whatever I have two cancelled classes! It's also Rachel's first Dark Monday after her opening last night and only free afternoon all week.

"Actually," oh that doesn't sound good, "I'm really sorry, bro, but I'm not gonna be able to make it."

"What?" not gonna lie, I was actually really excited to see him. I haven't seen him since his last stop here before he went to boot camp, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, it sucks but I got called to some meeting with some pretty high up officials, I kinda have to go, you know? Hold on a second, I have to put you through security," he says and right after I hear him put his phone down on something.

This does suck, by the way, because now Rachel and I are going to be third and fourth wheels. Kurt and Blaine are always so couple-y and because Rachel and I are "friends" it feels ridiculously awkward. I personally feel awkward because I feel like we should be the same way, unable to keep our hands off of each other except that I'm fighting like hell to keep my hands off of her. I can't overstep anything.

"Hey, sorry about that," Puck comes back, "And I'm really sorry that I can't make it. I was really looking forward to this."

I can hear that he really is disappointed, "Duty calls, though."

"Tell everyone that I miss them, will you?"

"Sure," I answer with a little sadness.

"Hey, you're still gonna go, right?"

"I don't know, it gets kind of awkward when it's just Klaine, Rachel and me…"

"Dude! You have to go!" he's pretty much yelling at me, "Who cares if it's awkward, you're spending time with her."

Well, that was quite the outburst, "Okay, jesus, I'll go."

"Good, you can't win if you sit on the bench, bro," he uses a sports analogy as if I could possibly relate to it. I'm gay but I'm not that gay.

He's still Team Santana though and I do appreciate it, a lot, "Thanks, Puckerman."

"Anytime, Lopez," I can hear him smile.

"Okay, clearly you're somewhere important, so I'm gonna let you go. I have to get ready anyways," I say as I start to change my clothes. I'm not wearing my Columbia hoodie to this. It's chilly so I'm not wearing a dress, but I'm not going looking like I just rolled out of bed either. Let's be serious.

"Don't try too hard, Santana, she already thinks you're hot," he says it like it's no big deal. I actually imagine that he shrugged when he said it.

I start to think about that though and she did say that I'd look hot in anything…

"Yeah, sure, Puckerman, thanks for the weird advice. Go be important or something," I laugh off his intuitive bro-dom and pick my hoodie up off of the sofa.

"I'm serious," he stays quiet for a moment, long enough for me to think he hung up, so I take the phone off my ear… nope, still there, "I really do have to go now. Have a good time, Santana and seriously keep me posted on everything. You know I'm routing for you."

"Thanks, Puck," it actually really gets to me that he said that, it's like, touching. I think in a way, Puck is that big brother that I never had and you know what, I'm actually going to say this to him, "I love you, bro."

"I love you, too, bro. Now go get her," and with that, he hangs up.

As I contemplate my jeans, white Converse and extra-small, dark gray Columbia hoodie combo, I find myself feeling really good about this afternoon.

~:~:~

**Rach:  
**Change of plans! Sorry! Meet at the East Side 79th St entrance? ㈷6

If she didn't add that emoji in there I would be sooo annoyed right now. Oh, also, Rach started slipping out a little more often and I changed her contact name back to it a few days ago. Nbd.

_Gonna be a little late then._

Her response comes in right before I turn around to cross the street.

**Rach:  
**That's okay! See you guys soon!

I might have failed to mention that Puck isn't going to be joining us.

I have to take a bus that goes from the Museum of Natural History and through the park in order to get to the other side. It's not really a big deal, it's just that by now, I've already been on the Bx15 bus and the B train, because we were supposed to be meeting at the Museum of Natural History. Really, she's lucky she's so adorable.

It takes about ten minutes for the bus to get across the park after it finally arrives at the stop on 81st St. I spot Rachel before the bus stops. She's standing against the wall at the entrance with one foot on the ground and the other flat against the wall as she's reading something on her phone. She's wearing the cutest, most perfect fall outfit. She has on skinny jeans that she's rolled up just a little so that they aren't touching her bright blue Toms and on top of a v-neck t-shirt (one of what has to be a million but I'm not complaining because they look amazing on her) that matches the Toms perfectly, she's wearing a light brown cardigan that she's left unbuttoned. It's so adorable because in a way it's a combination of the "old Rachel" and the Rachel that I've been getting to know over the past few weeks.

I have to cross the street to get to her and before she can look up I call out, "Are Bow Tie and Porcelain running late, too?"

"No, actually," she says before looking up from her phone, then when she does, her furrowed brow over my terms of endearment turns into perplexity, "Where's Noah?"

"He called me like, an hour ago and told me he was called to a meeting and couldn't make it," I shrug sadly as I get to her, "He wanted me to tell everyone that he misses you guys, but I can't do that if there are missing parties," I laugh and look around as if Kurt and Blaine are going to be coming around the corner any second.

"Umm… actually…" she's scrunching up her face a little and I think I already know what's coming, "they texted me like, ten minutes ago and told me they were stuck downtown."

This just went from going to be awkward to I don't even know.

"Oh," is all I can say with all of my surprise. I know, how freaking eloquent is that? "Umm… so, what do you think we should do?" I am just so good at this… not at all.

"We could, umm… go to the Met," she throws her thumb back towards the museum, "there's this structure, exhibit, thing on the roof that we go to. I heard it's pretty cool."

I guess she's only just a little better at this than I am. At least she came up with something. And guess what? "I haven't been to the Met yet."

"Really?" her eyes grow wide and excited and I feel my heart do that melty thing. "Oh my god, San, now we have to go!" she starts walking and talking so fast, I can't help but laugh as I try to keep up, "Kurt dragged me here when there was this Alexander McQueen exhibit and as we were walking to it, I kept stopping and looking at everything and how beautiful everything is. I fell in love with it. Everything!"

"Everything, huh?" I laugh as we climb the stairs to the entrance.

"Yes! Oh and when we were here that first time, there was another exhibit, I think it was called New York City After Dark or something like that, but it had these different photos of people and things in the city taken during the night. There were pictures of people sleeping on the street and buildings that I had seen before, but they looked so different," she's so excited, but because we're inside and waiting in line, she's like, trying really hard to keep her voice down.

"Uh, Rach, how much is it to get in?" I ask trying to figure out what the sign says above the desk.

"Technically, you don't have to pay anything. Before I was getting paid I'd give five or ten bucks, now I give them the full twenty-five," she answers as she digs into her bag and produces her clasp wallet, "Don't worry though, I got it."

"Wait, you don't have to…"

"I want to! Come on, let me treat you to first experience at the Met. Please?" and then she pouts at me. Shut. The fuck. Up. I can't say no to that! I can't believe she's getting me on the first try with that.

"Fine," I answer reluctantly and she claps in excitement, "At least let me show them my Columbia ID to get the student discount, though."

"Because your hoodie isn't enough?" she chuckles as we move up one more in line. She leans into me a little and lowers her voice, "I was right, you do look hot in anything." I feel my cheeks burning and my heart pounding and I don't know what to say. Then before I know it, Rachel's hand is in mine and she's pulling towards the desk. "One regular and a student," she chuckles.

"Do you really go to Columbia?" he asks flatly and I snap out of my Rachel induced daze.

"Yeah," I answer and with my free hand I pull my ID case out of my back pocket to show him.

"Okay, thank you, Miss Berry," he says with a smile this time and hands us these orange button things with Ms on them.

"Can we also have tickets to the roof exhibit?" she asks with a smile.

"The earliest tickets I have are for four o'clock if that's okay?"

It's two o'clock now.

"That's perfect," she answers and takes the tickets from him.

"Umm… what do I do with this thing?" I ask staring at this weird button thing in my hand as we walk away. It's made out of like, tin or something and it's a circle, except that it has like, this antenna thing sticking out of it.

"Lemme see it," Rachel takes it from me and starts to put it near my face, "Hmm… it would be weird on your hood," then she looks down, "Oh, here," her hands go to the pocket in the front of my sweatshirt where she places the button face up on the edge of the opening, then folds the antenna part behind it so that it stays there on the pocket. As she did this, I could feel her knuckles brush against my abs... this hoodie is comfy, but it basically fits me like a glove.

Fighting through what that simple touch has done to me, "Oooohh, I see. It's kind of like a hand stamp only you get to keep it." I look up and watch as she clips hers to the neck of her shirt. I'm staring, I know I am and she's going to catch me. I hope she does.

"Come on," she says and I pull my eyes back up to her face. For the briefest second, I see her lip between her teeth and I know that she saw me. Good.

"Where to first?" I ask as I turn to start walking deeper into the museum.

"I don't know, let's just go," she shrugs and then swipes at the inside of my hand with her finger.

I look over at her and she quirks her eyebrow at me.

Was that a silent dare?

Or am I reading into things?

You know what? Fuck it. I'm holding her hand again and if that isn't what she wants she can let go. She's leading me to a set of stairs and just before we get there, I reach out my with my right hand and slide my fingers along her palm until our fingers are interlocked. I watch her look down at our hands then back up at me. She licks her lips then smiles before continuing the journey upwards.

She didn't let go.

~:~:~

We've wound up in the European Paintings section. It's cool. It has a lot of paintings by the famous artists that we've all heard about, but it's got a lot of other paintings from art periods that aren't so well known. I'll be honest, I don't know very much about art and I'm definitely not signing up for an Art History course anytime soon, but I definitely like being here with Rachel. The giddiness that she feels just by walking through all of these rooms is definitely rubbing off on me.

The best part about all of this is that we keep finding each other's hands. We'll let go every once in a while to look at something on our own, but not long after, one of us will come back and our hands will be connected again.

The feeling that I get when I'm holding her hand is interesting. Somehow, it both feels like we never stopped holding hands and that they'd once been ripped apart. Like, it feels so right and familiar, but at the same time I _know_ that the last time this happened was a long time ago. It's similar to how everything with Rachel right now feels both old and new all at once.

Right now we're wandering through the Annenberg Collection. It takes up nine of the rooms… galleries, Rachel's corrected about six times already. I think these ones are my favorite. It has all of these paintings that I know I've seen before, but these are the real thing. There are Picassos and Monets and Van Goghs in these galleries.

"Is she wearing boots?" I whisper yell over to Rachel who is looking at the other Toulouse-Lautrec painting in this corner.

"Really?" she asks when she steps over to me. I feel her shoulder just under mine and I can see out of the corner of my eye that her arms are crossed, "You're looking at a painting of a naked woman and that's what you notice?"

"Nearly naked, she's wearing boots," I cross my own arms then bump her with my hip, then I turn my head to the side a little and say, "I guess she's also kind of a big booty bitch."

Rachel's arms unfold and shoot out in front of her. "Oh my god! I can_not_ stand near you," she scoffs at me and walks all the way across the gallery.

_I_ cannot stop laughing and laugh all the way over to her, until I get about three feet from her. I have this instinct. My arms want to wrap themselves around Rachel's waist, but I know that's going too far. I feel like touching her in some way is actually appropriate for this moment though, I'm just not sure. I can't take her hand because her arms are crossed again. My eyes land on the small of her back and for some reason, I decide _that's_ the perfect place to put my hand. I place my hand there lightly as I step next to her and I'm surprised when she moves closer to me. Then, my hand slides to her hip and she rests her head on my shoulder. I know that there's a really famous and beautiful painting in front of me, but there's an almost famous and even more beautiful girl in my arm and that's all that I can concentrate on.

"Excuse me," I hear a woman's voice very close by and then feel Rachel's head leave my shoulder, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to tell you that I went to the Funny Girl opening last night and you were just magnificent," this woman is probably in her sixties and she's wearing this huge gold necklace and has a thick Brooklyn accent. I can't see Rachel's face, but I bet she's blushing so hard and that she is the cutest fucking thing right now, "I can't believe that you're only nineteen years old with that voice. You know," now she's talking to me, "Your friend has one of the most amazing voices I've ever heard in person and I've been to Barbara."

I don't think Rachel can speak right now, so I'll try my best at this, "Ma'am, I think you might have just paid her the best compliment she's ever received."

Rachel nods and quietly says, "Thank you."

"Oh you are very welcome dear and I meant every word. Have wonderful afternoon ladies," she waves her hand at us and walks back over to her husband who is waiting patiently over by the Cézanne paintings. I rub my hand across Rachel's shoulder and she starts to turn back to me, as she does, I hear the woman say to her husband, "They're a cute little couple don't you think, Saul?"

I am frozen solid.

"How do you know they were together, Shirley?" he asks her with just as thick of a Brooklyn accent as hers.

"I saw how the taller one was looking at the Broadway girl…"

They're too far away for me to hear anymore.

I'm not really sure what I'm more worried about right now, someone thinking that we're a couple for _our_ sake or someone thinking that we're a couple for just _Rachel's_ sake. Not that I think Shirley and Saul of Brooklyn are going to contact with this information, but I have a feeling Shirley likes to talk to _a lot_ of people.

"Uh, Rach?"

"Did you hear what she said?" her facial expression is kind of hard to read right now.

"Yeah, I did and-"

"She said I was one of the best she's ever heard and compared me Barbara… the _original_ Fanny Brice… besides the real one of course…"

Did she not hear them as they were walking away?

"So you didn't hear them when they were over there?" my eyes go back over to Cézanne painting where they were walking.

"About us being a cute couple?"

"Yes."

Did my voice just crack?

"I'm out," she shrugs, "Well, I haven't officially said it, but if something comes up, I'm not going to deny who I am. Besides, Broadway is different than Hollywood. I mean, there are some gossip blogs and stuff, but it's nothing like the tabloids. I don't foresee getting hounded by the press about my sexuality or who I'm seeing and neither does my manager."

"Oh," I answer because I feel like she isn't seeing this the same way that I am. Like, it isn't a big deal that someone thinks that we're a couple… for our sake. It must be because we aren't.

"Let's go to another gallery and sit down for a little bit, we still have some time to kill," Rachel takes my hand and leads me through a larger gallery than the one we were just in and to another one labeled "Post-Impressionism." Instead of going around and looking at all of the paintings, we go directly to a bench and sit down. When Rachel sits down, she keeps hold of my hand.

I recognize one of the paintings we're facing. If I'm not mistaken, it's the one that Sondheim musical Sunday in the Park with George is inspired by. I might not have liked it when Rachel made me listen it to it, but I still remember the details. I always cared when she cared.

"Study for 'A Sunday on La Grande Jatte,'" she sighs.

"I was just thinking about that one," I say, turning to her a little, "Sunday in the Park with George, right?"

"You hated that one," she laughs a little, "and all of the Sondheims for that matter."

"Not true!" I take my hand back just so that I can point at her, "I liked that fairy tale one… uh… Into the Woods. That one's good."

"Right," she smiles and faces back out towards the paintings, placing her hand on the bench between us.

I do the same exact thing except I let my pinky land on top of hers. I know we've been holding hands pretty much all afternoon, but something about this is just… I don't even know… exciting.

We sit there like that for a few minutes in the quiet and with just our pinkies touching. In the quiet I realize that's the first time we've talked about something from when we were together. Of course it's like, the most pointless thing, but it's something and now I'm nervous. I know that we need to talk about it, but I'm not ready for that. I'm not ready to bring what happened into what's happening now.

"San?" Rachel softly calls my attention with the nickname I love hearing in her voice.

"Mhm?" I keep my eyes forward because I can see out of my peripheral that she has as well.

"Is this a date?" she turns her head as she asks and I can hear her voice shake just the slightest bit.

I breathe out a laugh because I think I'm so clever, "I don't know, Rach, you paid."

She snorts out her own laugh, "I did, didn't I?"

"I might have saved you thirteen bucks with my student discount, but you still paid for me, so, I guess I should be asking _you_ if this is a date?" I don't think I realize what I'm asking until it's already out there. And once it is, I am hoping so hard that this is.

"I…" she bites down on her lip nervously, "I'd like it to be."

I let go of the breath I'm holding and smile, "Me too."

There might be other people in this gallery, it has some pretty famous artwork, but if there are, I have no idea. Right now, the only other person in here with me is Rachel. She is literally all that I can see; she's all that I want to see. Our hands have turned so that our fingers are interlocked and our bodies have turned enough so that we're facing each other. I just can't take my eyes off her and hers aren't leaving me either.

"Rachel?" I whisper because I don't think I can actually speak.

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?" I don't know why I felt the need to ask, but my heart is racing as I wait for her answer.

Her eyes move down my face to my lips and she nods.

It takes a second for me to realize what should be happening and when I do, I have to stop myself from surging forward. Instead, I take it slow. I look at every inch of her face right before I close the few inches between us and when my lips touch hers, it feels like my body is finally awake. It's such a simple kiss, but every nerve in my body feels it. Her lips shift against mine and for some reason I can't stop this smile. Then she smiles and we're laughing softly with our noses rubbing against each other.

"Santana?"

"Yes?" I'm still laughing a little.

"Next time, you don't have to ask."

I think I'll take her up on that immediately.

* * *

**A/N: So I kinda sorta forgot that I was going to update... super sorry. Here it is though! Hope you're all liking it!**


	10. Wanted

I don't think I'll ever understand how Santana can seriously look hot in _anything_ she puts on her body. I am by no means complaining about it, but it really makes it difficult to remain objective. Seriously, though? A hoodie and jeans and I'm practically drooling all over the place! You know what it was, it was the words "Columbia University" that were hugging so tightly around her body. My attraction to intelligence is suddenly becoming a problem.

Except it isn't just that. She's everything she was before and then some. She's so ambitious and sweet and funny... I didn't want her to know, but after she called the Woman before a Mirror a "big booty bitch," I silently laughed all the way over to Water Lilies. And one day we were texting and I guess she was zoning out in one of her classes and she said, "You know, I've always wondered why porn is legal but prostitution isn't. It has to be because everyone involved in porn gets paid... except for the viewer of course." I could hear her saying it and I must have laughed for a whole minute. It wasn't really that funny, I guess it was just so random and I knew she was sitting in a class thinking about this.

Santana's always been super smart and I was always super attracted to that. But now, if I'm completely honest with myself, something that I concluded I really need to be in all of this, I'm attracted to Santana even more now than ever before. I know exactly why, it's because I can see her becoming the person she's meant to be. I can see the work she's put into herself and it's just... sexy. That's it. Santana is just sexier than she's ever been; to a point where I almost can't control myself.

After our kiss in the Post-Impressionism gallery and getting silently kicked out of the Post-Impressionism gallery (I'll get back to that), we decided it was probably a good idea to head up to the roof. Apparently, there was a sign at the entrance to this structure thing warning that it could cause disorientation. I didn't see it. This thing was incredible, really, but it was basically a round house of mirrors... with several rooms on different levels. It wasn't that bad at first and seeing the surrounding buildings and clouds was really cool, but when we got to the main, I don't know, bubble, things were quite disorienting. The mirrors and open spaces that caused the buildings' reflections to be upside down and mixed with the sky made me dizzy to a point where it was difficult to stand. I grabbed Santana's hand and squeezed the life out of it as I tried to regain my focus behind my eyelids.

I felt her move and then her hand on my cheek, "Hey, Rach, look at me for a sec?" I opened my eyes and she was right there, the only thing I could focus on, "Are you okay?"

"I am now."

She laughed through this beautiful smile then asked me if I wanted to get out of there. I told her that we could stay especially if she liked being there. This is probably going to remain engrained in my mind forever: she rubbed her thumb along my cheek and said, "I do," then she placed the softest kiss on my lips, "but I like you a lot more. Come on." As she guided me out I kept my eyes on my feet and the fingers on my free hand on my lips.

When we hit the roof, she asked me if I wanted to sit. I didn't. I felt like leaning up against a wall was a much better idea. I looked around and spotted a section of the roof that was quasi-closed off. Even though there really weren't that many people on the roof to begin with, I didn't really want strangers bugging us as I attempted to regain my composure. Not that I'm tremendously famous or anything, but I had already been recognized once that afternoon.

I situated myself in a corner where solid wall met with the roof's more consistent half wall/half railing and thick, perfectly maintained hedges behind it while Santana leaned on the railing looking out at Central Park East. After a couple minutes she turned around to face me and asked me how I was feeling. I told her that I was better and then she asked me if I was chilly.

"Why, are you going to offer me your sweatshirt?" I asked with a smirk. I knew she wasn't going to because…

"If I had more than a bra underneath it, yes, I would," she laughed and leaned over on the railing again, but still facing me.

I don't know why, but I said the first thing that popped into my head, "I wouldn't mind that."

Her cheeks got a little pink, then she smirked and narrowed her eyes at me, "But then how would I stay warm?"

I looked her up and down and what she was wearing was _still_ getting to me. "I can think of something," I said, then stretched my arms into the foot and half between us and pulled her to me by the pocket on her sweatshirt. It probably could have been a little more fluid and coordinated, but this was still by far one of the hottest things I've ever participated in. With my hands balling up Santana's pocket, I'd pulled her right into my lips. Our teeth actually hit a little, but I didn't care. I wanted to taste her again; see if she was different. I licked her bottom lip and nipped at it few times before she let me in. When she opened her mouth, her hand went to the wall next to my head and her other hand landed on my chest. I was barely thinking about what I was doing, I just knew that I wanted my tongue to play with hers. And oh my god, did it.

She does taste the same. She doesn't kiss the same, not exactly anyways, but she tastes the same. This mix of old and new continues to be intoxicating. Especially when she does things like suck on my tongue. She sucked. My. Tongue. It might sound weird, but you know what, if it wasn't for that wall, I might have fallen over.

I have no idea how long we were there, all I know is that by the time we were done, the sun was hitting the mirrors on the structure differently and things were rather uncomfortable in a certain place. She stopped us. I wasn't making it easy with the way that I was pulling on her sweatshirt, but she managed to do it. I didn't ask her why she stopped because I _knew_ she liked it. She also answered the question on her own by whispering, "We have time," a few breaths after pulling away.

You know, I actually can't believe that I did that. Just, started making out with her in a public place. I mean, when we were together I had wanted us to have sex in public, but I'm pretty sure that I was bluffing. It was just everything about the day. From her clothes to all of the hand holding to our second first kiss…

I'm going to say it: that kiss was better than our _first_ kiss. Our first kiss didn't really mean anything until after. Don't get me wrong, I remember it and I definitely don't wish that things had happened differently for us then, but this one was just… perfect. It wasn't long because she broke it with her own smile, but I think that's what made it so perfect. She even asked if she could kiss me and it was by far one of the most romantic things I've ever experienced. She kissed me again after I told her she didn't have to ask and it was during _that one_ that the woman who worked in that gallery cleared her throat, then motioned for us to leave. Normally, I'd be mortified, but I just couldn't feel it through the daze I was in. We actually laughed all the way out of there.

It's just so different. Things are going completely opposite of how they went for us in high school. We're moving so slow and in a way that seems so normal, but I'm much more scared now than I was then. I am afraid of being hurt again and I know that in love that's a risk you have to take, but I'm not sure I can handle it being at the same hand twice. I know that we have to talk about our past, but I'm worried she'll shut me out again if I bring it up. You see, the problem is that I can already feel myself falling for her again, perhaps to a point where I'm already afraid to lose her. So I'm waiting, I'm waiting for her to bring it up. I know I could be setting myself up to make a mistake a second time, but I really think this time she'll find the right things to say and in time.

I actually haven't seen her since then. It's been a week, but my life has been kind of hectic since. It's opening week of _Funny Girl _and I've been making appearances all week on top of performing eight sold out shows. A social life in general has been impossible this week. Mondays are always dark though. It's my day to do pretty much whatever I want. This Monday, the first after a very busy opening week, I have nothing planned save for one thing: a date.

I'm not even seeing my fathers today who are in town until Wednesday. They got me nearly all day yesterday and they can have me again until call tomorrow. Today is for me and what I want is to see Santana. Oh my god! They wanted to see her! It has to be too soon for that. I'm not really sure, because well, I've never re-dated anyone before, but I'm pretty sure a week is too soon.

We're meeting in Columbus Circle at seven and I'm actually taking the subway there. I haven't been in the subway in months. Not since they put the ads up for Funny Girl in stations. It's just weird. Luckily, my face isn't in Knickerbocker Station or in Columbus Circle as I've been informed by pretty much everyone. At least not on the platform. I might have forgotten how long the subway takes though... I'm a little bit late.

"I'm sorry," I start calling out to Santana as soon as my foot hits the curb of the circle, "I haven't taken the subway in forever!"

"You know Berry," she says standing up from the steps of the Columbus statue, "if you weren't so damn adorable all the time, you wouldn't get away with half of the things you do."

God, if she wasn't so fucking hot all the time… well let's just say I wish there was a bed behind her and not stairs. I hate leather anything, but that jacket... I should probably get ahold of myself.

"I guess I should keep it up then, huh?" hopefully I've said that without any drooling.

"The adorableness part or the taking advantage of my weaknesses part?" she chuckles as her finger slides lightly down the edge of my hand from my wrist to my pinky.

My other hand goes to the uneven opening of her biker jacket that isn't real leather and winds up grabbing it.

"Both. I mean it's really only fair if you're going to look this hot all the time."

Yup. That just came out of my mouth. It would be really nice if my brain wouldn't give into my body every single time.

"Well, you know I'm not gonna stop doing that," she smirks at me and my body wins out again. I yank down on her jacket and bring her lips to mine in the middle of yet another public place. This date hasn't even really started yet and I can feel things getting... messy.

"Well, isn't this a familiar sight..."

Shut the fuck up.

Santana definitely recognized his voice. We both opened our eyes and hers are wide with shock.

Eight million people and probably just as many things to do... how did they find us?

~:~:~

Papa and Daddy insisted upon treating us to dinner. Despite how absolutely livid I was, I couldn't get myself to say "no" to them. Santana most certainly wasn't going to so it was up to me and I just let them crash in on whatever it was that Santana had planned. I don't get it: they let me move to New York City at the ripe old age of seventeen but feel the need to chaperone me on a date? Granted it's on a date with someone that they watched break their daughter's heart, but that was over two years ago and I can handle myself!

Okay so maybe they caught me not really handling myself all that well in the middle of Columbus Circle, but I don't need their help.

Alas, here we are in Hell's Kitchen with my dads at the restaurant that Santana planned for us to go to all along.

It actually hasn't been that bad. My Dads have been pleasant and at least seem like they just wanted to catch up with Santana. More importantly, Santana's doing really well. I know she's nervous, but that's just because I can recognize her tells. For example: before she answers one of their questions, she chews on the inside corner of her lip for a moment. The only other time she ever does that is when she's reading or working on something and then it lasts for much longer. I know she's worried about saying something wrong to them, but she hasn't. I don't think she's going to. She answered all of their questions about moving here with Cris, how Cris is doing, what it's like at Columbia, how she's doing at Columbia, if she's learned any new recipes and will she send them to Daddy. Really, she's passing with flying colors, in my eyes at least and as much as I respect my fathers' opinions and want their approval, it is my opinion that matters at the end of the day. We're almost done with dinner, thank god, because no matter how well this has gone, I feel so awful that they ruined Santana's plans.

"This is a really great place, Santana. It's got a very trendy atmosphere," Papa says looking around and I can't stop the snicker from coming out of my nose.

"Yeah, a friend of mine brought me here a little while back and I had noticed all of the different dietary options they had. Like, creative things," she started out looking at Papa, but she wound up looking over to me by the time she was finished saying it and for some reason, it makes this smile pop up on my face and I look away to the table. "Um… excuse me. I have to use the restroom. Three waters will do that to you," she laughs this super cute awkward laugh and pushes her chair out.

"You know what," Papa starts and throws his napkin on the table. Oh god he's going to go with her, "I have to use the restroom as well. I'll walk with you."

"O… kay," for the first time, Santana _really_ lets her nerves show and I don't blame her for having them. I have them for her, but I can't do anything about it. I can't tell my father that he can't go to the bathroom! All I can do is watch them walk all the way to the back of the restaurant to the bathrooms.

Well, there is one thing I can do:

"This! This was your plan all along! Separate us so you can scare her! Not fair, Daddy!" I am whisper yelling at him right now.

"Babygirl-"

"No! I know what I'm doing okay… for the most part. I don't need you two to protect me," I'm not really doing the yelling part anymore, but I'm still letting him know that I am not happy with him and Papa.

"Has it occurred to you that maybe we just wanted to see Santana?" he asks in this tone that says, 'you're overreacting.'

But I don't think I am, "It did, until this moment."

He looks away from me and takes a breath. I'm right. Papa's _talking_ to Santana.

"I know that you aren't a little girl anymore, Rachel, but you're still our little girl and there's nothing more painful than seeing you hurt-"

"I'm not-"

"You could," he makes sure I hear him, "Don't get me wrong, I see the way that you two are looking at each other and it looks like something I've seen before, but remember that you two were young and experienced _a lot_ in a very short period of time-"

"Daddy, it's different this time," I really hope that he believes me because the last thing I want to talk about with my father at the moment is my sex life at sixteen and lack there of now, "We're taking things slow-"

"That's not what it looked like…"

Oh my god!

"Daddy, please! I know I'm your little girl, but I _am_ an adult. There are just some things that I have to figure out on my own and this is one of them. You can't watch this unfold this time," I release the short breath I have left from that last sentence, then a little more quietly say, "I'm on my own."

"I know babygirl," he says with a sad look in his eyes, "Your father and I just worry about you."

"I know," I say grabbing his hand all the way across the table, "your my dads; that's your job."

"Leroy! The bathrooms are the best part about this place!"

"Oh really?" Daddy looks at me with his eyes wide then turns to Papa.

"The one I used was Dolly themed," he's still in awe as he sits back down.

"Mine was Cher," Santana popped up her eyebrows probably already knowing the response she was going to get.

Daddy's eyes grow two times their normal size, "Shut the front door! Which one?" He gets up and rounds the table to go to the back of the restaurant before Santana can answer him.

Santana laughs and says, "It'll be funny if he winds up in the Nelly one."

~:~:~

"Get home safe you two," Papa says as he's stepping into the cab Santana hailed for him.

"I've got Tate," I shrug and wait for him to sit down, "I love you!"

"Thanks for dinner!" Santana calls out just before I close the door.

As soon as the cab is gone I turn to her, "I am so sorry!"

"Rach, it's o-"

"It is so not okay," my hand goes to her jacket yet again, only this time I'm playing with the zipper at the bottom, "I don't even know how they found us. I didn't tell them anything."

"You know what? As much as much as we wish we could, we just can't control our Dads," she shrugs then turns me, wraps her arm around my shoulder and starts walking back uptown.

"Papa didn't like, threaten you or anything? Did he?" I really don't think he did, but I still feel like I should ask.

She laughs, "He um… he was just… H…"

I only kind of understand what she's saying. I do know that she had gotten really close with my dads. How could she not? She lived with us for two months. I know she was closer with Papa, though… so maybe that's why he went? I don't know and I'm not going to ask either. If she wants to tell me she will. Since she's laughing about, I'm going to assume it wasn't too traumatizing.

"You know," she says into the quiet that had fallen between us as her arm slides down my back, "it's only nine o'clock. We could do something else, you know, without your dads crashing."

"Like what?" I ask leaning into her a bit, enough that our path goes crooked.

"Tate can pick you up anywhere, right?" she asks leaning back into me, putting us back on a straight path.

"Of course he can," I laugh. Where could she possibly be thinking to take me?

"Okay, well, there's this pastry shop that's open pretty late a few blocks away from my apartment…"

"Umm… first of all, we just crossed 53rd St and you want us to go _all_ the way near 125th?" she just shrugs and smiles, "And seriously? A pastry shop? I have costumes to fit into."

"First of all," Santana mimics my tone as she turns us onto 54th St going towards 8th, "I didn't say we have to walk there and second of all, you had a tofu, lettuce and tomato sandwich. One cannoli won't make you fat, beautiful."

Suddenly breathing is a challenge. If there's anything that's brought me rushing back to sixteen it's hearing that. I don't think that's something that just slipped out though. I think she was really saying that.

"You know," I swallow hard and try to keep my breath steady, "Daddy always told me not to fall for someone just because they call me beautiful."

"Well," her hand slides across the bottom of my back, then finds my hand, "My Papá always told me not to lie to people that I care about." I can feel her looking over at me, so I turn my head. The corner of her lip is tucked between her teeth.

"I'd love to go all the way uptown with you," I say through my melting heart. "But how are we getting there?" I ask not seeing her trying to hail us a cab.

"The one train," she says pointing ahead of us to the Columbus Circle station entrance, "Think you can handle it twice in one day?"

"Yes," I say not entirely pleased with the jest, but then I remember that I only put one ride on my MetroCard, "I uhhh…"

"Only got one ride?" she laughs as we ride the escalator down, "The adorableness continues!" Then she kisses my temple and I think I'm melting again.

When we get off of the escalator, Santana guides me over to a kiosk so that we can make sure I have enough to get onto the subway and as I'm tapping away at the screen, deciding whether I want to just get the one or suck it up put the seven dollars on for the free ride later, I hear her mumble, "Oh shit."

"What?" I ask as I pull my freshly refilled MetroCard back out of the machine.

"Uhh… nothing. Just um," she turns me back towards the turnstiles, "don't look back there."

Of course I'm going to now… and there I am.

"It's okay, we aren't going to be near it," I shrug. It _is_ kind of a big deal because it's really weird knowing that there's a giant picture of me on the wall about 50 feet away, but I'll survive.

"We'll stand even further down the platform," she says pulling up further to where the front of the train will be, "I think one should be here in a couple minutes anyways."

She's right, not even two minutes later and a 1 train is stopping in front of us.

For some reason, people don't like to sit in the front of the train. I don't mind, especially when it gets me a seat. When we step into the car, we cross the train and sit diagonally across from the doors we came in.

"Son of a bitch," Santana mumbles, looking up in front of her.

"What?" I ask but then look up to what her eyes are seeing, "Oh." There I am again, right across from us in the horizontal adds at the top of the car. I actually start cracking up. It's hilarious. I don't ride the subway purposely for months because I think it's weird that my face is all over them and the one time I'm unexpectedly on the train, there I am. "Well, I'm just everywhere, aren't I?"

"Mhm," Santana hums and her thumb starts stroking the back of my hand.

"What?" I ask and for some reason my instinct is to kiss her shoulder. I know that we've made out in public twice now, but this was a little more intimate on top of unexpected. But Santana's smiling, so it couldn't have been a bad idea. I still need to stop falling into things that we used to do, because this isn't the same.

"That's why we're here."

"Huh?" she's lost me.

"You're everywhere," she's doing that lip chewing thing again, "almost inescapable, really. That's why Papá brought me to your preview..." she starts drawing aimless patterns on the back of my hand, "I um... kind of started collecting... you."

The look on her face right now is just so... everything. It's honest and vulnerable, a little desperate and her gorgeous brown eyes are searching mine. God she's so beautiful. I know that wasn't easy to say and she definitely didn't have to tell me that. But she did and now I just can't help that I want to kiss her. I shift myself a little and I see more nerves in her eyes. I hope I can kiss them away. I place my empty hand on her cheek, let a smile play onto my lips, then witness those nerves fall away right away before my lips reach hers. Every time I kiss her I feel like I just can't get enough of her. It doesn't feel like it will never be enough, it just feels like... I've been missing out.

She stops us again, but stays pretty close, "You don't think it's weird?"

I laugh a little as I say, "It is a little." My laughter disappears though because I know she needs me to actually say something. I decided I was going to be honest with myself, I should be giving her the same courtesy, especially if she's going to lay her heart on the table. "You telling me that," I start and feel my throat tighten with nerves, but I want her to hear exactly how I feel, "makes me feel... wanted."

I can't remember everything I said to her that day that now feels like was ages ago, but I know that's one thing. One major thing. It isn't a jab, it's the furthest thing from it.

I'm letting her in. I'm letting her know that it's happening, I'm falling for her again. I know it's cryptic and it could easily be misinterpreted, but the kiss she leaves on my lips tells me that she heard me and she's here with me. I know there's still a lot that needs to be said, but we're both here and that's all I need in this moment.

"Thank you," she breaks the kiss yet again.

"For what?" I smile as it connects that we're in a public place still.

"For not thinking I turned into a stalker or something," she chuckles and sits back in the seat.

"Oh, you don't fit the profile," I wave her off with a half joke, half serious statement.

She laughs a little louder than before, "Have you been watching Criminal Minds? Because that is not something I'd ever think you'd watch."

Time for some truth: "Yes I have been watching Criminal Minds and I will have you know that I acted like a scared little bitch that night we watched Scream so that I could be all over you. You're the fool who never asked to watch a slasher movie again."

"Wait, seriously?" she's a little more shocked that I had anticipated.

"Yeah..." I say through partially gritted teeth, "it was a really great excuse to feel on your abs for an hour or so."

She laughs nervously as a blush rises into her cheeks and she drops her head down to look at the floor.

"Our stop is next," she says looking out the window across from us.

I don't know why I thought she'd bring things up now. It's just that this is the second reference to 'us' and it's the second time she's deflected away from it. It's frustrating waiting, but I just need to be patient. Besides, the 1 train really isn't an ideal location to hash out things that happened between us.

When the train slows to a stop at the 125th St station, we get up from our seats, still holding hands and walk off of the train.

"Ummm…" I look up to Santana who is looking away from the train and over me, "Maybe you shouldn't look at the railings."

For some reason, I just start cracking up. Again. I really am everywhere. The thing is though, we probably wouldn't notice if we didn't know me. I can hear Santana laughing with me and I wonder if any of the people on this platform are looking at us.

I have an idea.

"San," I laugh out and cross behind her to get to one of the ads. I stand right next to myself and laugh some more, "Take a picture."

"What?"

"Come on!"

"Okay," she chuckles and pulls her phone out of her jacket pocket. When she picks up her phone to take the picture, I turn just my head towards my face on the ad and give a 'this is awkward' face, "Ohmygod, Rach, this is so funny." She walks over to me holding out her phone so that I can see it.

"Please text that to me!" I am laughing even harder than I was before.

"I will. Oh man," she's trying to breathe out her laughter, "We need to get off this platform, it's too chilly on the els," she lets out another calming breath, "And the bakery is gonna close soon."

"Okay," I breathe out, then link our arms together, "After all that laughter, I think I really can have a cannoli."

"Rachel, you could have one anyways," I can hear her rolling her eyes at me and it makes me laugh, "I promise you'll still be hot."

Now I'm laughing a little nervously and I can feel my stomach getting all flustered. "Thanks," I mutter into her arm as we get to the turnstile to exit.

"What is this?" she turns away from me and backs up through the turnstile, "A little taste of someone's own medicine?"

She thinks she's so funny. I shove my way through the turnstile and then make the mistake of looking down. That fucking jacket and her hands in the pockets… and her smirk… the jacket. I grab it and pull her to me hard. God I just can't get my brain to take control. Wait, what was I thinking about… oh yeah, Santana's lips and her teeth.

"Rach," she pulls her lips back and presses our foreheads together, "we keep doing this in public."

Because we're always in public when we're together, I think, but say, "I know."

"Come on," she takes my arm again and we get on the escalator to take us down to the street. Once we're down there, she slides her hand down to hold mine and we walk in a comfortable and flirty silence down Broadway until we get to the bakery. The closed bakery. "Son of a bitch!"

"San, it's okay," I smile as I read the sign that says they actually closed at seven.

"I think I forgot that it's Monday. Umm… I don't know what to do…?"

"Well Tate won't be up here until eleven…" it's 10:15.

We're in her neighborhood. We could go to her place. I might be hoping really hard that she invites me to her place.

"Umm… we could…" it's pretty bright so I can blatantly see her gulp down at her nerves, "hang out at my place."

"Okay!" Did that sound too excited? "Uh… yeah, sure."

"Okay," Santana says, still nervous as I mentally smack my palm to my forehead, "It's down that block and around."

It takes us only a few minutes to walk to her door, however, it takes forever to walk up all of her stairs. She lives on the top floor of this building… six stories up. I mean, I guess it isn't that bad, except that it is. I am in great shape, I just hate stairs.

"Okay, it's a little messy," she says lingering with the key in the door.

I give her a look that says, 'oh please,' then say, "I don't care, San."

"I do," she rolls her eyes, but turns the key. She pushes open the door and gestures for me to walk in first.

A little messy? I have no idea what she's talking about. This place is amazing. It's a studio apartment so it's only two rooms… room number two is a bathroom, but it's so great. And so Santana. When I walked in my eyes immediately went diagonally across from the door to her bed. Not for the reason you think. Give me some credit. There's a giant window behind her bed. Her bed, by the way, is on this sort of platform and in front of that is a sofa with a coffee table in front of that. To the left is her kitchen area where she has pretty much everything but a dishwasher. There's a small white table with a bunch of newspapers and a couple magazines… probably the mess that she was talking about.

"Like it?" she asks from the door behind me.

"I love this," I say still looking at everything around me. There's a flatscreen on the wall across from her bed and sofa, "This place is so perfect for you."

"Papá wishes I didn't live by myself," she says as she moves over to the table and immediately starts organizing the things on it.

I'm moving further into the space. "Yeah, but you're still close to Columbia," I turn to her for a second before going over to one of the bookcases that are on either side of the TV.

"Yeah, there's actually one of those blue light things nearby," she says and I see her put something into a cabinet. Hm… the table is completely cleared off.

"I just love everything about it!" I say turning to her completely.

"Even the colors?" she chuckles, nodding towards the window.

She has a huge black curtain hanging from the ceiling. I'm assuming that even though this apartment faces west, it's still kind of bright in here in the morning and it's a huge window in front of her bed. I can't blame her for having black curtains. I look down though and see that her bedding is black, too. Well, black and white actually… and the sofa is white… the coffee table is black… the book cases are black and her dresser is white. Literally everything that she put in here herself is black and white.

"Yes," I answer, "even the colors."

"Papá and I built that platform and the step that goes up to it," she points back over to her bed, "I wish a bigger one would have fit in here, but I guess that's better than the twin I would have had in a dorm."

I think I need her to stop talking about her bed, "So, what do you wanna do for a half an hour?"

I know what I want to do…

She pushes herself off of the counter that she's been leaning on, walks past the table then past me to the couch. She sits down then shrugs, "I have cable."

I still know what I want to do…

"Time Warner's the worst," I say as I shrug off my jacket and let it fall to the coffee table. Then, I sit down right next to her. Like, there's plenty of room on the other side of me right next to her, "Why do you still have your jacket-"

I know I was asking for it but I don't think I was ready for her to just… jump me. Not complaining! I am so glad she did. Remember how I said I wished we were more fluid on the roof of the Met… we were just in perfect sync. Even though she turned and starting kissing me so quickly, when she started pushing me down, I was ready and my leg tucked under her perfectly and now she's got one of her legs between mine and me pinned underneath her.

It's nice to know that it isn't just me.

With the exception of her being on top of me, this is actually pretty tame. Our hands are staying above waistlines and our mouths aren't leaving to finding somewhere to else play. I will say that I'm having a hard time not putting my hands on her ass. And her hand _is_ dangerously close to my breast. She keeps balling my shirt into her fist and when I try that little trick she used on me last week, I think she might have ripped it. She moans into my mouth and two things happen: I feel like I'm going to come apart and I realize that my hand made it to her ass.

Then my phone starts ringing.

Santana pulls up from me but I pull her back into me. Tate can wait a little bit. We keep going until my phone stops ringing, but then it starts going off again.

"Rachel."

"Just a little more," I try to pull her back, but she fights me.

When I stop pulling, she lowers herself back down a little, "You know what?"

"What?" I ask only slightly annoyed.

"I really want to ask you to stay, but I'm not going to."

I actually love that she's saying this to me. Like, this is actually a turn on for me right now, if I wasn't already before. I am just baffled by the things that my body is reacting to with her. I think it's my ironic arousal that fuels me to ask, "Why not?"

"Because," she starts, but because sometimes my attraction to her blinds my objectivity, my finger tips find the skin on her back just above her pants. I can see her struggling to get out whatever it is she's trying to say and it isn't helping my own worsening situation, but now that my fingers are there, I can't pull them away. "I'm," she takes a deep breath and swallows hard, "not... ready."

"Okay," I answer simply. Honestly, I don't think I'm ready either.

She gets up and grabs my jacket, then grabs my hand to walk me out. She walks me all the way back down the six flights of stairs, helps me put my jacket on, then kisses me and says, "Goodnight, beautiful."

It all gets to me. It gets to me so much that these words get caught in my throat. Words I'm not sure I mean yet… or again.

"Goodnight," I manage to get out what I know I want to say, then step outside where Tate is waiting for me. "Sorry, Tate. My phone was on silent."

"It's alright Miss Berry, I'm just happy you're alright," he says then closes the door.

I've never asked him to before because I think it's weird, but I think I need him to put the privacy… thing up. Or do I do that? I do.

"I'm really tired, Tate, if you don't mind I'm going to…" I point to the button that will block his sight to the back seat.

"I don't mind, Miss Berry," he smiles into the rearview then looks back in front of him.

Oh god… I definitely needed privacy.

* * *

**A/N: I totally meant to have this up yesterday. Super duper sorry! Anyways, that structure on the roof of the Met, totally real. If you do a Google image search for Met Cloud City, you'll see exactly what they were in. Technically, that wasn't there this past fall, but if Glee can be inconsistent so can I. I'll admit it though. Alright, hope you all have a wonderful weekend! I'd love to hear from you!**


	11. Plus One

So, dating Rachel Berry is difficult. I'm not saying that _she's_ difficult. No way. She's… well, she's everything. What I mean is, actually dating her is difficult. Maybe if I said dating for us is difficult… I guess that actually has two true meanings.

Ugh.

Our schedules conflict… a lot. She has eight shows a week. That means Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays she has shows at 8, Sundays she has a show at 1 and Wednesdays and Saturdays she has shows at 2 and 8. Got that? That was 3+1+4=8. She also has refresher rehearsals every once in a while, sessions with her personal trainer four times a week and vocal coaching three times a week; not to mention everything else she has to get done in her life. I'm a full time student with an undergraduate assistantship. I have class Monday/Wednesday/Friday at 9:05, 12:45 and 1:40 and Tuesday/Thursday at 9:30 and 2:20. Also, for two hours a day, five days a week I work in the Political Science office and in the last three weeks, midterms haven't helped either.

Basically, by the time I'm done with my day and would be able to meet Rachel somewhere, she'd have to be at call not long after. We can go out on Friday nights after her show, but she's usually pretty tired by then since she's gone through her entire day _and_ spent two hours and ten minutes singing her ass off onstage. Saturdays are pretty much a wash due to the two shows. Basically, we're left with Sunday evenings and Mondays. Thank you to whoever decided that there could be dark Mondays.

I know it might sound like it, but I'm actually not complaining. Not being able to spend a lot of time with her in person makes me appreciate the time that we do even more. More important than that, I know I'm willing work through all of this with her. Even though this is difficult, I'm not going anywhere.

We have found a work around for not being able to see each other in person all the time: FaceTime. I actually love our FaceTime dates. I mean, of course I'd rather be with her, but I can live with the next best thing for a little while. For the last two weeks, Rachel has been the first face I see in the morning and last I see before I go to sleep.

I'm usually still awake by the time she gets home from her show. I still do all of my work really late. The FaceTime call generally comes in at 11:30. I always ask her how the show went before she can ask how my night has gone. She gives me a look but then tells me anyways. I really love hearing about the stage door mostly because she's so adorable when she talks about it. Every night she's determined to speak to everyone that waits for her. She said that her favorites are the young girls. As the show's gone on, there have been more and more and she's even getting parents thanking her for being a role model for their daughters. There was one girl that told her she'd joined her school's show choir because of her and that it was the best thing she'd ever joined. Rachel said that was her favorite stage door moment so far.

After I tell her about my usual uneventful night, we pretty much just sit together. I mean, I know we're not actually together but it's close and I can still feel her with me. I sit at my table or on my bed while I do my class work and she'll do whatever it is she needs to do that night, which usually isn't very much and she actually winds up just hanging out with me... from afar.

I know this isn't like, the hottest thing to think about, but our FaceTime dates make me imagine living with her. Like, this is what it would be like. We'd do all of this but in person. Thinking about it gives me this feeling in my throat. Like, I might cry but I can't stop smiling and my stomach just flutters all over the place. I know we lived together once but it was under her fathers' roof and rules, it wasn't what I'm imagining now. What I'm imagining now is a life together. I know, it's only been two months since Rachel even entered back into my life and believe me, I'm not packing up a U-Haul anytime soon, but knowing that's something I want now only makes me want to make sure I do this right.

One thing that I don't like about the FaceTime dates is that it doesn't help to chill how much I _want_ her. If anything, it makes it worse. She is and always has been simultaneously adorable and sexy. All. The. Time. Only making matters worse for me is that Today Rachel is the sexiest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. I can tell you exactly why: she is infinitely more comfortable in her own body than she was before. I've only seen her with her clothes on and felt certain places on her body, but I'll bet my tuition that her ass looks the same out of her jeans as it does in and that there are abs under that v neck. She had them before, but from what I've felt over her shirt, I'm pretty damn sure that they're _a lot_ more defined. And she's still the cutest fucking thing because even though I know she's more confident in herself, she still gets all blushy when I say things about how hot she is. The thing is that I see all of this through my computer screen and it makes me want her. I want her in every way possible, so when we're actually together I almost can't control myself.

It keeps getting worse, too. Somehow we keep winding up at my place, even when she plans the date. The time on the clock keeps getting later and later when she leaves, too. We've done this before, but this is completely different. This stand-off is totally unspoken of. It's like this silent agreement that _things_ can't happen. I feel like I'm the one enforcing it the heaviest because when she leaves, I can see the disappointment in her eyes, like this might have been the night that I ask her to stay. Instead, it's just another night that we're left to deal with ourselves... and that reminds me that I need batteries.

Ugh.

I want to be with her so badly but the cloud of our past is hanging over us and it's so thick, that every time we get into things, it billows right into my brain and forces me to stop where we're going. I know that I have to say something, but things have been going so well... I'm just afraid that we won't get past it. I'm so afraid of that happening that it's debilitating to think about.

I can't lose the love of my life to my stupidity twice.

I texted her a couple of hours ago telling her that I was up and that I was going for a run, so if so she wakes up in the next hour to text me back and I'll make the FaceTime call. I've been back for an hour and she hasn't texted or called me.

It's 10:30 in the morning. Granted, it's Saturday, but seriously, who is she and what has she done with up at the crack of dawn Rachel? Actually, who am I kidding, I don't really mind… and if we're being serious, who am I? I was up at 8:00 to get ready for that run.

Oh my phone is ringing! I love that picture of her... with her. I'm going to answer this on my lap top, though… and it's on my bed. Good thing my apartment is so tiny.

"Good morning, beautiful," I say as soon as her not-so-bright and shining, but still extremely beautiful face pops up on my screen.

"That's very nice of you to say, but I literally just woke up. There is no way I'm beautiful right now," she says as she rubs her eye and sits up in her bed.

I roll my eyes so hard at her, "Shut up, Rach, you're always beautiful."

"Ugh, how are you so awake right now? We were up so late last night," she lets out a yawn at the end and tries to cover it up with her arm.

"Who is this 'we' you're talking about? You were out cold by 12:30!" snoring and everything. Itty bitty, super fucking adorable snoring, but that's how asleep she was: she was snoring.

"Why did I think I lasted longer than that?" she asks with a scrunched up face and when she tilts her head and dips her shoulder with it, the very wide and most likely cut off collar of her sweatshirt falls. And there's that adorable and sexy all at once. "Umm… San?"

"Mhm?" I'm still staring at her collar bone and her shoulder and her lack of bra.

"You didn't hang up," she isn't asking a question and I just shake my head in response. I didn't hang up. Actually, I put my phone on the pillow next to mine and laid there listening to her snoring away because of my hope that someday she'll actually be there. "My iPad was dead when I woke up, that's why I'm on my phone."

"My phone was almost dead when I woke up," I can feel my cheeks burning because I have this awful feeling that she's going to think that it's weird.

"So did we like… sleep together last night?" god, the way she's looking at me makes me want to kiss her so bad. She has this hopeful look in her eyes and this cute quarter smile.

"I guess so."

She smiles and nibbles on her bottom lip a little as she looks at me and I find myself doing the exact same thing back. I have this, giddy, teenage girl thing happening to me. I don't really mind. Suddenly there's a little turbulence and once it's settled, Rachel's lying down on her stomach on a different part of her bed. I can only tell that because I'm seeing a different section of her room.

"Umm… what did we talk about last night?" her giddy, teenage girl face has turned into an awkward grin.

Really?

I roll my eyes again, but then I smile at her because her because her awkwardness is getting too cute to take, "Uh… you told me about how your zipper got stuck and… oh and that they're thinking about making Tuesdays and Thursdays a seven start, then I told you about my midterm in Western Civ…"

"Is that it?" she's still got that awkward grin thing happening.

"Yeah, because you were asleep by the time I started talking about how I think I might need glasses-"

Now the awkward grin is gone. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is agape, "Ohmygod, you'd look so hot in glasses." As I blush my cheeks off, she shakes her head and then resumes the awkward grin position, "I have to tell you something."

"I feel like nineteen is an age that people know you shouldn't start anything with a phrase like that," I say the exact thought that pops into my head because now I'm nervous.

"Well, I wanted to tell you last night, but I fell asleep! It's actually pretty important," now she looks nervous.

Great! Now I'm even more worried!

"Rach just say it," I wince.

"Someone asked me about you last night."

"Uhhh… what?"

"Actually he asked, 'so, who's the girl you've been spotted getting _very_ close with?' Just like that. With the emphasis on the very and everything," she's clearly annoyed.

How is it that I never considered this? You know, that by being associated with Rachel, that I'd be _associated_ with Rachel.

"But I thought you said-"

"That I didn't think I'd be hounded about this? I know. I guess I figured that questions about me would happen, but he didn't even ask that!" she's pissed. It's like she's reliving what happened last night. I _need_ to witness more of this.

"So, what did you say to him?"

"Well, first I told him to meet me closer to my car so that A I didn't have to put him in his place in front of fans and B so that Tate was close by. Then when I got over to him, he asked me_ again_! As if I didn't remember what he'd asked me," oh god, she's so angry and so hot right now… she's hot always but right now… I can't even… "So I said to him, 'If you want to ask a question about me, go right on ahead, but don't you dare ask _anything_ about her. I'm who you want to know about, she's none of your business.'"

Hold on, was she protecting me? Or is she hiding me? Or are those maybe one and the same?

"Then he asked me if I'm gay and I know I said that I would just come out and say it if I was asked, but this guy was just such a piece of shit that I just turned around and got in my car… and then flipped him off behind my tinted window. I can't even believe this guy! Just because he was so obviously family, does not give him the right to be so abrasive! And to just ask about someone else?! God, some people just don't know how to exist with other people."

I let her sit and breathe out her anger for a little bit before starting, "Rach?"

"He just really pissed me off," her anger resurges for a second and then her features soften, "And I realized that we haven't really talked about that, so I felt like I needed to protect you. I mean, eventually one of these sites is going to find out who you are…"

Her sentence just sort of falls off. I have a feeling she didn't really think about this either. Why didn't either of us think about this?

"What are you thinking?" she asks, then immediately shakes her head at herself, "Sorry. I hate that. It's so invasive and… impatient."

But Rachel's invasive and impatient. Those are two of the qualities I like most in her.

"No, it's okay, Rach," it is, except, "I don't really know what I'm thinking. I'd never even thought of this."

"I know! Neither did I and I feel like such an idiot! Like, of course there are going to be people that want to know who I'm with! When I get invited to things, I get a plus one. They're going to want to know who my date is!"

Is she implying what I think she's implying? Because wherever she's going, yes.

"It's okay if people know who I am," I say softly, because while I'm not sure I want a bunch of Broadway fans invading my privacy, I do want Rachel. If having Rachel in my life means that a few very specific blogs talk about me every once in a while, I accept.

"You're okay with that? Really?" she looks unconvinced.

"Well, I don't want you to have to keep verbally assaulting people for me," I laugh.

"I will though," I love that she wants to protect me.

"I'm proud of you," I can feel my heart starting to beat faster as I say this, "I want people to know that."

"I want people to know about you, too," she's doing that cutesy lip biting thing.

"This is one of those moments I wish you weren't so far away," I twist my lips a little, then rub my finger tip against Rachel's cheek… well, my screen.

"I'm only in Bushwick," she laughs softly.

"That doesn't sound anything like Morningside," I laugh back.

"You're right, what was I thinking?" she laughs a little harder this time and then I see a thought enter her brain, "Hey, what time is Quinn getting in?"

Oh yeah! Q's coming into the city today all the way from New Haven. We're seeing the _Funny Girl_ matinee. I'll tell you about it in a little while.

"One."

"That's cutting it kind of close, isn't it?" she says because she hates late comers. I do, too and I'm usually in the audience.

"She said she has some meeting at nine and then she can't get a train until like 10:56 or something. She'll get into Grand Central by one so we'll be there by 1:30," I say in a way that also says, 'don't worry, we won't be the late comers.'"

"I'm so excited that she's coming!" she says this as she sits back up on her bed, "You have to ask her about her girlfriend!"

Okay, this would be Quinn's mystery girlfriend that she refers to, but has never given a name probably so that we can't Facebook stalk her. Also, her Facebook just says 'in a relationship' and they don't post gross comments on each other's walls. I mean, I wish _everyone_ was like that, except not in this case. Not when I want to figure out if one of my best friend's significant others is worthy of her awesomeness.

Of course I'm going to ask her about her girlfriend, but still, "Umm… _you_ can ask her about her girlfriend when you see her after the show this afternoon."

"Oh yeah," she taps her forehead and shakes her head slightly, "Speaking of which, I have to start getting ready."

"Me too," I say somewhat sadly. I know I'm going to see her again and in person, but it still sucks to say goodbye to her.

"See you later, San," she smiles and then kisses the camera on her phone.

"Later, gorgeous," I smile, proud of my own reference and kiss at my camera.

"That's not the line."

I just give her a 'really?' face then wave back at her before counting with her, "One, two, three." End.

One night we spent fifteen minutes trying to hang up but neither one of us wanted to do it first… I know, how cliché… so we came up with that counting thing. And I know, adorable.

I have to get ready to meet up with Q, I'll be back in a little while.

~:~:~

So about three months ago, I made the mistake of telling Quinn about seeing Rachel pretty much everywhere I went. Strike that, I made the mistake of telling Britt who let it slip out when we were in a Google Hangout together. She had actually already known about Rachel's Broadway dreams coming true, though. Apparently, there are ads for _Funny Girl_ in the New Haven Metro North station. After that conversation, Quinn promptly purchased tickets to _Funny Girl_.

Now, this is all well and good, except that she was planning something. How do I know this? Because when I told her that Rachel and I were starting to hang out again back in September she responded by saying, "Dammit! I bought those tickets for nothing!"

Of course my response was, "What tickets?"

Cue a throaty sigh, an eye roll and then the explanation for her outburst, "I bought tickets to a Saturday matinee in November and I was going to force you to come with me. I know that's like, super far away but it was the earliest ones I could get."

I didn't really know how to respond to that. Except, now I'm starting to think there may be some sort of conspiracy going on around Rachel and me… hmm…

Anyways, she went on to say that we could still go because in all actuality, she'd really like to see Rachel in this. It is her dream role. Also, she was positive that an NYC adventure was going to be necessary after the midterms she was probably going have to endure. So here it is November 2nd and Q should be here any second. I told her I'd meet her by the East Balcony mostly because it's easy to find and we can decide if we want to take the subway or not from there. We also didn't know what track her train would be coming in on.

And would you look at that! There's my other blonde best friend… and some other person that she's holding hands with. Umm… I hope she knows that my apartment can't sleep more than two… well, it can but I'm not sharing my bed _or_ giving it up. She's waving at me and saying something to the girl… yeah, that's a girl… she's holding hands with. I can only assume that this is the mystery girlfriend that she talks about. I'll be more excited about getting to meet her after I find out where she thinks she's staying tonight.

"Hey, Q!" I call out to her as I push myself off of the railing of the stairs to the balcony.

"Hi!" she says, letting go of mystery girlfriend's hand to give me a hug. As we're hugging, I remember that it's actually Rachel's fault we wound up getting so close. Honestly, if she hadn't decided we should help her out, I wouldn't be able to say that I have two best friends. Even further than that, I probably wouldn't be going to Columbia.

"Santana," she gives me a quick look that I think means 'please be nice' then turns to her 'friend,' "this is my girlfriend, Jackie. Jackie, this is my best friend Santana."

Okay, I'm going to be completely honest right now, Jackie is not the name I was expecting. Q has a type. I won't say that she's into 'butch' lesbians, definitely not, but she _is_ into girls that like to… I'm going to say blur the lines of gender. Her first and only other girlfriend… oh, it makes me angry just thinking about her… RJ, wore a lot of snap backs and guys' slim straight jeans. She was cute and she was a good girlfriend… until she wasn't… ugh, I'll just get pissed thinking about it.

Anyways, Jackie is waaaay cuter. Still not my type at all, but I can totally see why Q is into her. She's wearing these super dark wash, guys' skinny jeans, a black and white plaid, flannel shirt, white Chucks, a hooded varsity style jacket and black, plastic framed glasses. She's about the same height as Quinn and she's super thin, like, those skinny jeans are probably a 28 thin. Oh! Actually, you know who she kind of looks like? She looks like Rachel Maddow when she goes on someone else's show. Her hair cut is even similar, it's just lighter and styled messier. It all works. She actually kind of has some swagger. Her canvas backpack is even cool. I'm going to give her an A in the 'external put togetherness' category. Way to go Q!

"A third of the Unholy Trinity!" she holds out her hand and I take it, "It's nice to finally meet you, Santana. Quinn's actually told me a lot about you."

"Oh really?" I ask looking at Quinn. She can talk about me to _her_, but she can't even tell me this girl's name?

"I might have told her some things about high school," Quinn shrugs. I mean, I guess there are some things about her that she can't tell without talking about me. But still, why couldn't I know her name until now?

"Um… I actually have to get going, I'm meeting my friend at the MoMA at 1:30. It was nice to meet you, Santana," she shakes my hand again, then she turns to Quinn and gets all lovey eyed, "See you tomorrow, Roo."

Well, that answers that question, but Roo?

"Tomorrow," Quinn is giving those eyes right back to her, "I love you."

Whoa.

"I love you, too," and now they're kissing and Holy. Shit. They're like, hot. Not like, I'm turned on hot because Q's like, my bro and that's weird, but like, I can tell that when things go down, they go _down_.

"What?" Quinn asks when she finally looks back at me after Jackie leaves.

"Ummm… there are a million things," I say as I continue to gape at her.

I can see her contemplating it and then through a quirked eyebrow she says, "You can ask whatever you want until we get to the theatre, but once we're there, you're cut off."

Yes!

"Roo?" is fresh in my mind as we exit through the door to 42nd St. I guess we're walking.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, "I was doing props for this show last semester and the director wanted something really specific. Because it was a last minute thing and I didn't want to have to pay exorbitant, expedited shipping costs, I had to go to the Disney Store. You know how they used to have all of the stuffed characters in that shelving, pit thing in the back?"

"Yeah."

"Well, they aren't like that anymore. They're on regular shelves in the back. I was back there and I found it, but it was up just too high. Of course, instead of asking for help, I tried to reach it. I got it, but as I was getting it down, I took everything down with it. _Everything_. Guess who was right there?"

Here's a wild guess: "Jackie."

"Oh the mortification. And she was just smiling and she asked me if I was okay. I told her I was far too embarrassed to know if I was and she laughed and then she asked," Quinn laughs a little before she can get to it, "'Are you sure that's the one you want?' You had to see her face. She's just so cute and charming."

"And you're so smitten you didn't answer the question," I nudge her arm as we stop at the corner of 42nd and 5th.

"The director wanted Roo from Winnie the Pooh and that's what I was holding," her face is the pinkest I have ever seen it. That's actually super adorable. "Okay, next question."

"Got any cutesy names for her?" I can't help it. I have to tease her.

"Not really," she chuckles and rolls her eyes, "I usually just call her J because one syllable is easier than two and it just flows out better."

"Yeah, especially after 'oh my god' and 'don't stop,'" I laugh and she narrows her brow at me, not particularly pleased. Okay, next question. Let's see: I already know that she goes to Yale and that she's a year older than us and I don't have to ask how they met anymore, "Where's she from?"

"Queens."

"No way!," I say immediately and Quinn hums out some reassurance. I'm sure that's where she's staying. Okay, what else? "Hmmm… so how long have you guys actually been together if you met last semester?" She only started talking about her this semester. Just in case she gets too into this, "We're turning right on Broadway."

"Well, we met in the beginning of May and we met for coffee a couple times before classes ended but there were finals and then we both had to go home for the summer. We kept in touch all summer. We texted all the time and we'd video chat," as we stop at the crosswalk for 43rd St, she turns to look at me, "S, I was in love with her before we even kissed for the first time."

"Wow."

"I know and oh my god, when we did… and when we…"

I think I lost her, "Q! Quit the walking sex dream!"

"Sorry…"

I cannot stop the massive bout of laughter that flies out of my mouth. Like, I bet people are looking at me weird. Oh man. Good for Q. She deserves something good. Which leads me to my last and most important question: "Does she know about… Beth?"

Her lips twist a bit, then she gives a half a smile, "Yes."

"And I'm assuming that since you're all heart eyes over there, she was cool about it?"

This is my real 'is this person good enough?' test. RJ wasn't good enough. RJ was a CUNext Tuesday. She was great until she found out that Quinn had a daughter out in the world and then she was awful. Granted she was a seventeen year old girl with zero life experience, but she was still an absolute bitch about something that had nothing to do with her. That's why I asked. Because it's a part of Quinn's life and she shouldn't be made to feel ashamed of it. She should be loved for everything she is.

"Completely. I actually told her about it over the summer because I felt myself falling hard for her. I had to get it out there, you know?" she shrugs and then adjusts her messenger bag.

"Mhm, I know."

I definitely know. It's just... a matter of action.

"Holy shit!"

"What?" Oh. She found Rachel.

"No wonder your Dad brought you to that preview. _I_ would have brought you if I knew that was what you were dealing with!"

"We didn't even take the subway," I mumble as we turn onto 49th St.

"You know I have a million questions for you, right?" she asks, "Because we haven't really talked that much since this all started and I know you haven't really been talking to Britt either."

I know that this is her being my concerned best friend and I think an alarm probably went off when Britt told her that we haven't been FaceTiming as much as we were before. I've just been spending so much time with Rach… maybe that's why I didn't know her girlfriend's name until today.

"After the show and after we have dinner with her," I tell her because I know I'm not escaping this. I guess I should be talking to someone about this anyways. I can only hear myself think things for so long, right? "You know you're going to have retell all of that to Rach, right?" I laugh trying distract the conversation away from myself until we get to the theatre.

She laughs and as we get close enough to the theatre to see all of the photos of her as Fanny, "And then some."

~:~:~

Well, Quinn made the mistake of telling Rachel that Jackie was in the city and after getting all of the answers to her million questions _and_ creeping on all of her pictures on Facebook while we had dinner, of course she _needs_ to meet her before they go back. Even though it isn't really convenient, they're going to meet her at the theatre before Rachel's call. Q had to know that was coming.

Thanks to Rachel, I now know that Quinn's girlfriend is a microbiology major with every intention to go to medical school. She wants to be a pediatric surgeon. I made a Grey's Anatomy reference that went right over both of their heads and then Q said that if there was a lesbian Jeopardy, I'd probably be its Ken Jennings. Rachel laughed, I didn't. Despite that little rendezvous to Rag on Santana Land, it's been a fun dinner. I've mostly just enjoyed watching Rachel get so excited for Q. She just got so into everything that Q was saying. We're both romantics, she's just a lot more vocal about it.

"I'm so happy for you, Quinn," Rachel says as she jumps at her for a hug, "I can't wait to meet her!"

"Thanks, Rachel," Quinn laughs as Rach squeezes the life out of her.

"Okay, beautiful. Q's gotta breathe," I laugh softly as my hand goes to her shoulder.

She lets Quinn go and takes a couple steps back towards the stage door, "I have to get in there," she throws her thumb back towards the theatre behind her, "Working girl and all."

I just can't even deal with her adorableness.

"Break a leg tonight," Quinn smiles, "You were amazing this afternoon."

"Thank you, Quinn and I'm really happy you came to see it," Rachel is giving her this genuinely, grateful smile and it's beautiful. Of course it is. Everything about her is.

"Me too," Quinn smiles back, then puts her hands in her pockets. I think she's assuming the 'waiting for my friend to say goodbye to her ladyfriend' position.

"Think you'll be home at 11:30?" Rachel asks as she plays with the zipper on my jacket. She _really_ likes this jacket.

"I can make that happen," I smile as I start to feel the pull of her lips take hold of me.

"Well, I don't want to ruin your plans with Quinn," now her hands are a little higher on my jacket and fussing with one of the snaps, but she isn't looking up at me anymore.

I take my finger and lift her chin to me, "I'll be home by 11:30."

"So, then I'll see you soon," she brings her lips close to mine and hesitates there waiting for my response.

"Soon," I answer and give in to the pull of her lips. Every time our lips touch it's like it's the first ti- actually, no, it isn't like it's the first time. That's ridiculous. Especially when I'm completely aware that it isn't the first time. Each kiss is better than the last. That's what it is.

When our lips part, she waves to me then enters the theatre through the stage door. My eyes linger there for a moment before turning back to Q… who is gaping at me.

"What?"

"You are so in love with her," Quinn finally closes her mouth and regards me with semi-sad smile.

It's because of the look she's giving me that I cave, "I know."

"Where's a good place for something chocolate?" she asks, wrapping up my arm with hers.

I know exactly where to go, "Uptown on the way to my place."

"Let's go."

~:~:~

The entire fifteen minutes that it took for us go from 49th to 72nd, Quinn told me about her first trip to an adult store. I don't know why she decided that was the best topic for the 1 train, but I don't care, it was fantastic. While Q has definitely become more comfortable talking about sex, she's still pretty shy about it. Hearing her talk about how her eyes were simultaneously opened and blinded by what she found in this place, was probably one of the greatest things I've ever heard. It was a fantastic distraction from the conversation that's going to start as soon we sit down with our hot chocolates and house cookies.

We find a small table in a corner upstairs and after we sit down, we sit there in silence for a little bit.

"Is there a piece of chocolate at the bottom of this?" Quinn asks as she stirs the liquid in her cup.

I can't take this, "Just ask me something. Please."

Without looking up from her cup, "Have you slept together?"

Right off the bat. That's the first thing she asks.

"That's your first question?"

"Considering how you started things the first time around, I think it's a reasonable one," she looks up from her stirring and raises one of her eyebrows at me. It isn't like her normal quirk, it's more, I don't know, considerate.

And she's right, it is a reasonable question, "No…" Of course I go and say it like there's something else and Quinn catches it. I bite down on my lip for a second then spit it out, "I'm not ready yet."

"_You__'__re_ not ready yet?"

Why is she so surprised by this?

"No, I'm not," I say, hoping she feels bad for how she asked that.

"Sorry," good, "Why not? Because I just spent enough time with you both to know that you _look_ ready." I'm not sure I can answer. I know the answer, but I'm not sure I want to say it. Things are much better when they stay in my head. I'll just stare at my hot chocolate until she decides to ask a different question. I hear her sigh and then, "Fine. Have you told her how you feel yet?"

God, what is with all of the hard hitting questions? You know what? Fine. Here it all goes:

"No, not yet and truth be told, I don't even know _what_ we are right now-"

"Is she seeing anyone else?" she interrupts the rant that I was about to go on and now I feel like I'm about to go insane because I didn't even think about that. Oh my god.

Wait. No way. When would she be seeing someone else?

"No, there's no way. Pretty much every matching free moment we have, we spend together somehow. Either on a date or on FaceTime," I say it with as much confidence as I can muster after that brief moment of doubt.

"So, you don't know?" she asks as if she didn't just hear what I said and then takes a sip of her hot chocolate.

I don't really, do I? Shit. No wait! "This morning she told me about this guy that came up to her at the stage door last night and asked about me."

"And what did she say to him?"

"She said that he could ask whatever he wanted about her, but to leave me alone. She was protecting me-"

"Was it that or did she not know which girl he was asking about?" now she's giving me the usual quirked eyebrow and I feel like I'm about to smack it off of her face.

"What the fuck, Q? Rachel isn't like that! She isn't the same person as she was in high school, but that much about her hasn't changed. God, how can you say that about your friend?"

"I know."

"And besides, she told me that she wants to tell people who I am… wait, what?" Did she say 'I know?' Has she just been trying to get something out of me? Did she and Britt switch bodies or something?

"So, she can tell people your name, but what will she say about your relationship? That you're her friend? Her friend that she goes out on dates with and kisses in public places? Or maybe her ex-girlfriend?" that one hurts and I know that was Quinn's intention. "You haven't talked about it."

"Our relationship status? No," I roll my eyes because I feel like I already said that.

"The fact that you're exes," she says it with a little force so that I'll hear her, "Beyond that actually, _why_ you're exes."

And she's figured it all out. I just shake my head and stare down at the table because what can I say?

"Santana, you have to. If you don't it's just going to keep eating away at what you have going and you have something good, I can see it. Something about this just looks different. Better. I don't know," she shrugs and smiles a little, "You look like adults and not horny teenagers."

I breathe a laugh through my nose and roll my eyes at her, but I actually think I like that. That's actually a really great way to describe how this feels. We're putting so much work into us that it feels like a completely different thing than what we had before. It's so much better. If only I could just get past this one fear.

"S?" Quinn asks in the silence that's fallen over us. After I look up and acknowledge her she asks, "What are you afraid of?"

"That one of those horny teenagers fucked everything up so badly that she can't really fix it," I answer her question and I can feel the pain of tears gathering my throat.

"She won't know unless she tries," Quinn says through an encouraging smile.

"I don't know what to say, Q. I can't even begin to think of what's right," my forehead lands between my thumb and forefinger as I try to both hide and rub away the headache I'm starting to feel.

"Anything is right, Santana. Nothing is the only thing that's wrong."

I know I've heard that before.

"But what if-"

"Stop," she cuts into my fear with a tastefully raised voice, we are in a public place, "You love her."

Whether it's still or again, I'm not entirely sure, but I know that I love her. "I do," I sigh.

"So do something about it."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this is late. Last night was last minute date night. Hope you enjoyed this one! I had to bring one of the blonde besties into NYC. Haha. I'd love to hear from you all!**


	12. But We Are

You know, it's really easy for us to look back at things and see clearly what we did wrong. Hence the saying 'hindsight is 20/20.' For example: I know today that I didn't get into Tisch because of one thing I did in my audition. Before I started my song, I did the tiniest vocal check. It couldn't have lasted longer than three seconds, but it was three seconds of wasted time. I know now that casting directors immediately write someone off for doing something like that because it's unprofessional. I saw the members of the panel write something down and it completely threw me. Because of that, at least twelve other people were better than me and were offered spots in the musical theatre program.

This is how we learn from our mistakes and become better people. After two years without her and after spending the last two months with Santana, I've been thinking about the events that led to our demise. The more that I think about it, the more I think it can be summed up by 'we were both young and stupid.' Every complicated aspect leads to that one explanation.

We didn't know what we were doing. That's not to say we know now, but we definitely know more.

Speaking for myself: I know now that I did hurt her. I wasn't trying to and I didn't see it because I thought what I was doing was right, but if I look at it from her side, it looks like I gave up. Then I twisted the knife. She was a rebound and I let it go on too long out of pride and principle. Bailey was a good person and she deserved to be with someone that actually loved her. I just couldn't do that. I wound up hurting two people in the end. Three, if I include myself.

I knew Santana was hurting when things ended, but somehow I had convinced myself that it was completely her doing. I had tried... until I stopped. I'd held onto this for two years. Now that she's back in my life, I can't believe what an idiot I had been.

I had a chance. Well, I had several chances, but there's one in particular that haunts me. The day she came back to school. Our stare down in the hallway before the final late bell. My instincts were screaming at me to kiss away all of her pain; to tell her that I was that there for her despite everything. I could have stopped it all in one moment and I chose to walk away.

She chose to remain to herself.

You see, we were both young and stupid and we broke each others' hearts. I can see that now.

We have this second chance that people don't usually get. I'm in love with her again... or still... I think it might be both, to be completely honest. Neither of us are the same as we were at sixteen and seventeen, but we are.

I'm scared that the parts of us that are the same are the ones that led to our end. That when things get emotionally difficult, Santana shuts down and when I feel like I can't find her, I give up. It's easy to recognize things, but it isn't always easy to recognize them as they happen. Harvey, my ever-perceptive therapist, tells me this often.

All of this is so terrifying, because now that Santana is back in my life, I don't want her gone. I keep waiting for her to say something and I keep getting disappointed. Every time we wind up at her place, I think this is the night that we talk about it and this is the night that the wall causing the stand-off between us comes crumbling down. But it hasn't happened.

I'm not giving up on her this time, though. I really think it's going to happen. She's going to say something. Soon. We haven't expressed certain things, but I _know_ she feels this. I know I'm not alone in this. I can feel it in the way she kisses me and how she touches me. I can see it in the way she responds to me. I'm not alone in this.

Today's a new opportunity. She's meeting me after the show today and from 3:30 to whenever we part ways, she has a chance. We have a chance. Once she starts, I have my own things to say; my own apologies to give. I don't know what she has planned for our date tonight, but tonight might be the night that after something about our past together comes up, she'll bring up our end. I just need her to come to me.

We'll see.

~:~:~

I think I love the stage door as much as I love being onstage. They're starting to get difficult now, though. After nearly two months of being in our theatre, the buzz about _Funny Girl_ has gotten louder. I can't stop and take pictures with people or have conversations anymore and I feel awful. But if I were to do that, I'd never leave. I'm afraid that people are going to start thinking that I'm rude or that I don't care, but I'm not and I do. I just… have a life. That sounds rude, doesn't it? I try to smile as much as I can and sign everything that's put in front of me, but I can't be there for an hour every night. I am grateful, believe me, I still can't believe that all of these people even want my signature let alone a picture with me, but someone is waiting for me.

"Miss Berry?" I hear someone call to me just as Tate opens my door for me. I look at him and he just nods back in the direction that the voice came from.

As I turn around to address the voice, I immediately start saying, "I'm really sorry-" but then I stop because the first face I see is a little girl about seven or eight on crutches. Her entire leg is in a purple cast and how can I say 'no' to anything she asks me? "What's your name?" I ask through a smile because I can give up five more minutes for her. Just looking at her, she reminds me of Brittany's little sister, Lily.

"Emily," she answers.

Her mother immediately starts after she answers, "I'm so sorry, Miss Berry, I'm sure you have somewhere to be and I know the man at the door said no pictures-"

"I think I can make an exception, but just this once," I smile at Emily and then look to her sister who is probably 13 or 14, "What's your name?"

"Rachel," she mumbles and looks to the ground.

"No way! Well, now we have to take a picture together!"

"This was my present for being brave in the hospital," Emily pipes in as she adjusts how she's standing with her crutches, "I broke my femur."

"That's a big bone to break," I say walking over to her quickly so that she doesn't start hopping over to me.

"The biggest!"

Oh my god, she is so much like Lily!

"Thank you so much, Miss Berry, you've really made their day," her mother says to me after she's taken the picture.

"No, thank you! You guys have made my day. And please, Rachel," it's really just too weird when people call me Miss Berry, "I'm really sorry, but I have to go. Someone very special is waiting for me and I promised I wouldn't be late."

"Your girlfriend?" Emily asks with these bright eyes and I'm sure mine turned to absolute surprise. Maybe she is Lily… just you know, with a different face and hair color and two years younger or so.

"Emily!" her sister yells, "I'm sorry, Rachel! I told her not to say anything." She turns back to her sister, "I told you to that those Tumblr posts are just gossip, Emily!"

"I don't even know what that means!" Emily yells back at her sister.

I don't even know what to do. Tate is still waiting there with the car door open, ready for me to get in, I could easily get out of here.

You know what I think my problem is right now? I don't know if Santana is my girlfriend. I told her yesterday that I wanted to tell people who she is, but I don't know.

"Girls! I'm so sorry, Mi- Rachel. You have places to be," their mother grabs the older sister's wrist and starts guiding Emily away from me, "Let's go you two."

"Why couldn't you have kept your mouth shut, Emily? Now she hates us!"

"No I don't!" I call out to them because that is the last thing I want them to think of me. They stop and I walk towards them a little. When I get to them, I bend down a little bit to address Emily. I don't want her to feel bad about what she said to me, despite what her sister says to her, "She isn't yet, but I want her to be."

"So you do like girls?" her face scrunches up a little and it makes me kind of nervous. She's an age at which kids start to become judgmental. They start taking in the things they hear other people say, but they aren't really old enough to form their own opinions.

I'm hoping she really is just like Lily, "Yes, I do."

"You're a really good actress!" she smiles big and her eyes brighten up, "I really thought you were in love that Mr. Arnstein guy!"

The snorting laughter that comes out of my nose is unstoppable and all I can do is say, "Thank you, Emily."

"You should probably go, you promised you wouldn't be late and if you really want that girl to be your girlfriend, you probably shouldn't keep her waiting."

And more laughter.

"Come on, Emily. We've kept Rachel long enough," her mother starts gently pushing her.

"That's what I was trying to tell her! Bye, Rachel!" she waves quickly and then turns around the best she can on crutches.

"Bye," I call out and then turn around, still laughing. I think this is my new favorite stage door moment.

Somehow, I've managed to get myself quite far away from my car. Tate has closed the door by now, but he opens it back up for me as I near it. "I had a feeling you'd want to talk to them, Miss Berry," he smiles at me as I step into the car.

"Because you know how awful I would have felt if I'd ignored a kid in a cast?" I laugh a little.

"Yes ma'am," he smiles at me then closes the door.

"I thought you weren't taking pictures anymore?"

"HOLY SHIT!"

How did I not see her?

"Nice to see you, too, beautiful," she laughs.

"Hi," I sigh and laugh at the same time. I am so happy to see her, "This is such a wonderful surprise."

"That's much better," she smiles with her lips and my eyes go right to them and then my lips do too. I think if it were socially acceptable, I'd like to just never detach myself from her lips. They're perfect and they fit perfectly with mine. But alas, it isn't even remotely acceptable to walk around attached at the lips… for anyone. "Ready for our evening together?" she asks, wagging her eyebrows up and down after she takes her lips back from mine.

Sometimes she is such a clown and I love her for it, "Of course I am. What are we doing?"

It's her turn to plan our date. While I enjoy making the plans, I _love_ when she does.

"Well," she starts, putting her arm up on the back of the seat and I immediately scoot over to snuggle into her, "I thought that we could be tourists for a little bit. I think after living here for a while, we get so into the grind of life that we forget what an awesome place this city is."

You see? She is so good at this. "I love that idea," I say as I watch my fingers spread slowly across her knee. "What touristy things are we doing?" I ask and let my fingers slide gently up and down her thigh a little.

"You're just going to have to wait and see," I can hear her smirking and I as much I love it when she teases me, I don't… not right now at least.

"Come on," I push myself up using her leg as leverage and turn myself so that our faces are very close. "Please tell me," I pout at her. I know I shouldn't abuse it, but it works so well.

She rolls her eyes and sighs then looks back at me with her lips sort of twisted like she's lost the battle with my pout. Like a charm!

"Nice try."

"What?"

And now she's laughing at me. I'm glad she thinks this is funny. I bet she won't think things are funny anymore when my hand inches up to the inside of her thigh. Mhm… just what I thought.

"Where are we going?" I ask with my nose brushing up against hers, then my lips touching hers just slightly.

She swallows hard, then breathes out, "Uh uh. Wait."

I know that I'm trying get something out of her, but I think all I'm really doing right now is torturing myself. I've suddenly forgotten _what_ I'm trying to get out of her. All I know is that one of my hands is between her legs, the other is basically under her butt and my lips are nearly touching hers.

And now they are touching. And I might be on top of her. This is so not safe for riding in a car, but I definitely don't care. Oh right! The car. But I don't want to stop. My hand blindly reaches for the button that puts up the privacy divider and as I'm searching, my hand smacks right into it. I feel Santana laugh into my mouth and I get this mix of butterflies and that feeling in the pit of my stomach, the one that starts before I come completely undone and it's all ridiculously intoxicating. It might actually be a little too much. I probably shouldn't have positioned myself on her leg like this.

I pull myself away just slightly and press our foreheads together. For a little while, we both take ragged breaths into the same space. When Tate puts the car in park, she kisses my nose and I slowly maneuver myself off of her. I look out the window and see that we're at the Staten Island Ferry.

I love this.

When we're out of the car, Santana takes my hand and we start walking towards the entrance to Whitehall Terminal. "I know this is like, public transportation and all, but _a lot_ of tourists ride this thing back and forth so that they see can the Statue of Liberty. And we can just sit and talk for a while, maybe have someone take our picture with the Lady."

"This is perfect," I smile and give her a soft kiss. It really is. It's so simple, but it's still creative.

"Come on," she starts tugging on my hand, "We have to get seats on the right side!"

~:~:~

This has been the most wonderful time. I really love Santana's closeted romantic side. We've just been sitting here watching things as we pass by them slowly. There's been this comfortable combination of quiet and conversation as we take turns holding each other. I think I could sit here on this ferry with her forever. I know I can't, but I could spend an infinite amount of time with her anywhere else.

"I can't believe I hadn't done this before," I say picking up my head from hers and looking at the Statue of Liberty, "We didn't even do anything like this when were here as tourists."

"You and Kurt snuck into the Gershwin..." Santana sits up and quirks her eyebrow at me.

Oh yeah.

"...And we all snuck out and went to Central Park."

"And Lincoln Center and Washington Square Park and Times Square… okay so we covered a lot of ground," I roll my eyes at her, "But we didn't do this or go to the Empire State Building or walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. I haven't done that either! And I live in Brooklyn!"

"You see? Too into the daily grind to enjoy what we have here," she shrugs and interlocks our fingers.

I bet Manhattan looks pretty cool from here. We just started heading back from the Staten Island terminal. I have a feeling I could get some pretty great pictures of lower Manhattan from the front of the ferry. I only have my phone, but it generally takes some pretty decent pictures.

"If it's okay, I'm going to go to the front of the ferry to take some pictures. Since we're tourist-ing and all," I say it as I get up, except my fingers are still intertwined with hers.

"Okay," she says through a light laugh.

"I'll be back," I assure her and leave her with a quick kiss.

We're already sort of close to the front (it was the end when we were heading towards Staten Island) so it doesn't take me all that long to get there. After I take a few photos of Manhattan, Brooklyn, the Statue of Liberty and even a few of New Jersey, I put my phone back in my pocket and look out at the city. Sometimes I still can't believe that I live here. It hasn't even been a year and a half and this place has already given me so much. A home, a career and quite possibly love. Well, it's brought love back to me. Now I just need to keep it.

I should probably get back to her. Why didn't I ask her to come with me? No wonder she was looking at me a little funny. I'm laughing at myself and looking at the ground so that no one will see me laughing at myself. Once I've breathed it out, I look back up and when I do, I see Santana standing, leaning up against the railing and talking to someone else. Another girl. Why is she talking to another girl?

Hold on. Am I getting jealous? Jealousy is ridiculously unattractive. Although, I will admit, Santana used to get a little on the jealous and possessive side and I rather enjoyed it. I'm not sure I've ever really experienced this before. Okay, maybe once when I idiotically thought Santana had cheated on me with Noah. I hated it then and I hate this now! But why is she smiling at this girl? More importantly, why do I care so much? I should butt into this, right?

"Hey, San," I blow right past the girl and immediately grab Santana's hand. But then I look up and recognize the girl that she's talking to.

"Hey, Rach, you remember Liv right?"

"Yeah, of course," I do remember her. Liv is Santana's _straight_ friend from Columbia that I met about a month ago when I met Santana in between her classes for lunch.

"I heard your show is going great!" Liv opens up her arms to give me a hug.

I feel like the biggest idiot on the planet right now.

"It is. Thank you."

"Hey, Santana, good luck on the rest of that paper. I'm sure you'll kill it. Oh and let me know what you think about that case analysis when you get a chance?" Liv starts to back up.

"Thanks, Liv and I will!" Santana answers and Liv turns back to go wherever it is that she's going. "You were jealous," Santana smirks as she turns to lean both of her elbows on the railing.

"I was not."

Oh come on! I am such a better actress than that!

"Oh my god you were!" she continues to tease me and I walk away to sit on the bench across from us, "How the tables have turned."

"Santana, it was an ugly moment and I do not want to discuss it further," I huff and cross both my arms and my legs.

Maybe if I knew what we were, it wouldn't have happened.

Santana sits down next to me, leaving zero space between us and after a moment she says, "You know I'm not going anywhere, right?"

I think I do know that, but I'm not sure how to answer so I simply uncross my arms and legs and snuggle into her. Just another reason why we need to talk about things.

"Don't lose this," she's holding out a MetroCard in front of my face and I take it from her.

"What's this for?" I ask, sitting up.

"The next part of our tourist trip, you'll see," she smirks at me and considering how well my last go at attempting to pry out our destination went, I think I'll be waiting to see.

~:~:~

This morning as I was getting ready to leave for work, Kurt asked me if I knew the difference between love and lust. Of course he asked me in a much more roundabout and tactful way, but he asked me nonetheless. I scoffed at him and told him of course I know the difference. He proceeded to remind me how things had begun with Santana the first time and then reminded me of what seems to be happening by the end of all of our dates together. I do understand the point he was trying to get across: lust has a tendency to cloud one's vision.

I may not have given Kurt the satisfaction of knowing that he was right to ask me, but he was and I've been considering it all day. Well, I've been considering it in all of the moments that I've been Rachel because for two hours and ten minutes I was Fanny Brice and while Fanny's problems are mine, my problems aren't Fanny's. Acting 101. What he said has actually been rather enlightening and as this evening with Santana has gone on, I think I've figured out what's so different between us this time around.

I know that there's a difference between love and lust, but I also know that one can lead to the other and when that happens, the lines that separate them are blurred together. Previously, we had experienced a love that was born out of lust. Today, while I'll willing admit that I am lusting away for her, I know deep in my heart that it stems from the love that I feel for her. Now, by no means am I attempting to discredit what we once had; that was real, no matter how young we were or how short lived it was. I loved her without a doubt in my mind, but now, I'm _in love_ with her. It simply isn't the same. It's what's stopping my lust. I want nothing more than to blur the line separating the two, but I can't do that until I tell her how I feel and I can't do that until we acknowledge our past. Because my lust for her is fueled by my love, I can't give myself to her again until I know we've forgiven each other.

We won't survive if we can't get past this. I know that and I think she knows it as well. Knowledge doesn't fix anything though, action does and I'm still waiting. Waiting is difficult for someone as impatient as I am and when she does things like plan the perfect date, it's even harder.

Part two of Santana's Tourism Extravaganza (her words, not mine) was a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. She'd planned this before I told her I'd never done it before. The MetroCard she'd given me was for the subway trip from the ferry to the bridge. She told me while we were on the train that she wasn't telling me what the second part was because she thought that I'd complain about it. I scoffed at her at the time, but when I figured out what we were doing, I started complaining. I said, "I can't believe you're going to make me walk all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge after being onstage today."

Her response was was, "There are people that work out after an eight hour day. You can walk across the Brooklyn Bridge after being onstage for two hours."

I scoffed again, "It's two hours and ten minutes and it's exhausting."

"First of all, you only had _one_ show today," she said grabbing my hand and walking me towards the bridge, "and second, this is my plan and I want to walk all the way across this bridge holding your hand while the sun sets. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, not at all," I answered as I felt my heart combust in my chest.

I wonder if seventeen year old Santana would have given in to my complaint and changed her plans. I don't think that I abused it, but I know that she gave into my demands often once upon a time. I remember hearing Noah and Brittany call her whipped when they didn't think I could hear them. _That_, what happened after I complained, was not the same and as much as I liked knowing that Santana would do anything for me, I think I like knowing that she won't put up my bullshit even more. Actually, I think it turns me on… just another thing to add to the ever growing list.

We actually spent most of our walk talking about other people. A lot of the trip consisted of Quinn and her girlfriend, who is wonderful, by the way. I met her earlier. She's very charming and quite attractive. She and Quinn look very adorable together and very much in love. I'm happy for Quinn. Santana also informed me that she caught up Brittany for a little bit before she came to meet me. Apparently, Brittany is dating two people… at the same time… and they are 100% aware of each other. They are so aware of each other that they are also dating. It sounds confusing but I really think it's as simple as Brittany is in a relationship with two other people and you know what? I'm not even surprised. Santana wasn't surprised either. She actually said, "You know what? Britt has a big heart. I'm not surprised she's sharing it with more than one person at a time."

We took a break in the middle of the bridge and had someone take our picture before it was too dark. It's probably my favorite thing ever. We were originally just standing next to each other against the rail, but the very kind stranger that was taking the picture for us said, "Come on guys, act like you like each other!" We looked at each other and laughed. Then I wrapped my arms around her waist as one of hers went around my shoulder. After our photographer said, "That's better," I quickly got up on my toes and kissed her cheek. "Perfect," he said handing me back my phone. I looked at it and I couldn't have agreed more. He caught me kissing her cheek and her in the middle of a laugh. Her eyes are closed, but she has the most gorgeous, natural smile. I made it the lock screen on my phone and I can't stop looking at it.

Next on the list of things to do is dinner. She preodered Grimaldi's pizza. It's kind of average as far as New York pizza places are concerned, but it's proximity to the bridge makes it a popular tourist destination. We've walked over to the carousel with our giant cheese pizza and we're sitting on the steps behind it. The carousel is inside of a glass box and it's brightly lit, so even in the dark, we can see almost like it's day time. Everything in the city is lit. From here, we can see almost all the way uptown. It's beautiful. I keep turning my head to the left or looking at my phone and finding something even more beautiful though.

"You know, I'm really starting to regret telling you that I'm not vegan anymore," I say as I take a slice from the box.

"You know, you're saying that to me as you take your third slice," Santana smiles as she takes a bite of her own third slice.

"The crust is thin," I shrug as if that's a defense. I'll probably eat my designated fourth piece as well. Whatever, I work out a lot.

"You're gonna hate me when I tell what the last part is," she laughs.

"Oh, you're actually going to tell me this time?"

"Well, I can't just invite myself over to your place," she shrugs with the shoulder closest to me and gives a slightly nervous half smile.

"If I do, will you tell me exactly what your plan is?" Finally some leverage!

"Absolutely," she smiles.

I guess it could be my turn to host her, besides, Kurt's staying at Blaine's tonight because Sam is in LA for the week. "Santana, would you like to come back to my place? I have it to myself tonight."

"I would love to, Rachel."

"So what's the last part?"

"Dessert."

"And what's for dessert?" I lean in and bring my face a little closer to hers. She did say she'd tell me _exactly_ what her plan is.

"How does Apple Cinnamon Pancakes a la Mode sound?"

"Like you're trying to make me fat! First pizza and now that?" I'm joking, but it's fun to watch her roll her eyes at me.

"You just walked all the way across the Brooklyn Bridge and you have a session with your personal trainer tomorrow! You aren't going to get fat!" she huffs at me and I can't stop laughing. "What?"

"I know," I'm still laughing.

"So stop saying that! You're hot Rach, accept it," she gets closer to me. Close enough that it would be quite easy for me to just kiss her.

"Okay," I breathe out then move forward that inch so that our lips press together. I want to tell her now. When our lips part, I want to tell her that I love her, but I can't. Not yet.

There's still time.

~:~:~

Santana planned every last aspect of this date. She met up with Tate so that she'd already be in the car when he pulled up to the theatre and so that they could plan where to meet after we were done with our pizza. She knew how long we'd be on the ferry, approximately how long it would take us to get across the bridge so that the pizza would be ready for us. She even had Kurt pick some things up for the dessert she's making and bring them into the apartment while I was gone. Good thing I did invite her over because seeing the apples on the counter and the ice cream in the freezer would have made me feel terrible had I not.

I love watching her cook. I don't think she knows she's doing it, but she dances. It's nothing huge, she just sort of moves her hips a little and bobs her head to a beat. She must always have something stuck in her head when she's cooking. It's something that she does that's cute and sexy all at once. While I watch her from this seat at the table, the question of love or lust comes into my head and I'm reassured that love comes first. I just know.

She catches me watching her when she turns around to ask, "Where are the plates?"

I just bite down on my lip and point to the cabinet directly behind her. "I'm happy you're here," I say after she turns back around and after she's opened the cabinet.

"Me too," she says and smiles back at me over her shoulder.

"That smells like heaven, by the way," I breathe through a laugh.

"I hope it tastes like that," she laughs back on her way the fridge, "I kind of just made this up."

"You made it, I'm sure it's amazing," I roll my eyes at her because she should know by now that I've never not liked something she's made for me. "When have I not liked something you've made?" I ask because I really can't remember, but she might.

"I tried to recreate my tofu stir fry with eggplant and you hated it," she answers me immediately.

Oh my god! That was awful! I do remember! "It was slimy!" I laugh and stick my tongue out remembering exactly how bad it was.

"So are mushrooms and you eat those," she scoffs at me and returns to fridge to put the ice cream back.

"Mushrooms aren't slimy," I scoff back then see that Santana is looking for something in the fridge, "What are you looking for?"

"Uhh… got it," she smiles a closed lipped smile back at me then pulls out a can of whipped cream, "Mushrooms are gross. They're a fungus that grow in the woods. Animals shit in the woods."

I know that that was funny but all I can think about is my seventeenth birthday. She'd taken me on a surprise trip the aquarium, we had dinner with my fathers when we got home, then we went to bed and barely slept. There's no way she isn't thinking about the last time we were _together_. I can't stop my brain from flashing back to it as I hear the swish of the whipped cream coming out of the can. I slam my eyes shut and open them back up again a few times in an effort to remain in this moment. Maybe this will be it. Maybe she'll say something now.

"All done," she turns around with two perfectly plated breakfast desserts.

I let out the breath that I didn't realize I was holding as I say, "Come on." I gesture to the couch, get up and try not to let my disappointment show as I say, "We have cable."

She laughs a little as we walk over to the tired couch that Kurt and I procured when we moved here.

"I really like your place," Santana says as she sits down and I put the television on. I flip through a few channels and stop at a random one that's playing Never Been Kissed.

"Thanks," I reply as I sit down next to her and she hands me the plate. Kurt and my apartment is actually quite similar to Santana's. It's different in that it's much bigger, however it's one giant room that we've divided with curtains and bookcases plus a bathroom and a giant sliding door. "Are you waiting for me?" I ask after looking at her and seeing she hasn't taken a bite yet.

"Maybe," she looks at me nervously.

Ugh! I'm so disappointed and frustrated but everything she does so endearing… and these pancakes smell so good! "Oh my god! You just made this up?" I ask before I even swallow the forkful of amazing that I just tasted.

"It isn't too sweet?" she asks as she cuts into her own.

"No! It's perfect! I think it's because the apples are fresh, they balance out the batter. San, this is amazing," I think I might be moaning over this. Seriously, this is unbelievable. I don't know why people say the way to someone's heart is through their stomach, it's blatantly through their mouth. My stomach isn't tasting how fantastic Santana's cooking is.

"I saved the rest of the batter and I can write down how to cook them," she says, smiling after swallowing her first bite. "When I told Kurt what I was making he told me to save him some."

"Of course he did," I laugh.

"You know," she says after a few bites and through a mouthful, pointing at the TV with her fork and I laugh a little because she's talking to me through a mouthful, "This is one of my favorites."

"Because you love romantic comedies. I know and your secret has remained safe with me," I roll my eyes playfully and continue to devour what's on the plate in my lap.

"Thank god! I don't know what I'd do if people found out," she feigns worry, then laughs as she cuts into her pancake and ice cream.

Without looking up from my plate or thinking, I ask, "Remember when we ran into Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury at the movies?"

"I thought Miss Pillsbury was going to pass out she was so worried," Santana laughs as she puts her plate on the coffee table.

As I do the same, I say, "I was so nervous I couldn't let go of your hand and then they figured us out, so we were even."

When I sit back I see that Santana is chewing on the inside corner of her lip. My heart starts beating faster as the thought of 'now' runs through my head. Finally, she's going to say something now.

"That," she starts, then bites down on her lip for a moment. I'm suddenly feeling very anxious and I know I'm leaning forward anticipating what she's going to say. She takes a deep breath then, "I knew I was in love with you that night."

I know that isn't what I was looking for but I couldn't help it. I had to kiss her. How could I not? She'd never told me that before. And it is something. And so is her tongue and oh god, the tongue sucking thing. And somehow I've managed to be straddling her thighs.

This is what keeps happening. One of us caves in to our lust and we can't stop… until we get to that point where we _have_ to and then it's too late. Not tonight, though. She will say something. That's happening tonight.

Her lips leave mine and kiss across to my jaw, then up behind my ear. I hear her sigh just before she sucks lightly and briefly. She kisses down the side of my neck all the way to my collar bone and I feel her hands move up from my hips, under my shirt. But she stops.

"It's okay," I whisper, my own fingers getting lost in her hair. I want her hands on my skin. I know it does something to her and maybe it will invoke something. She looks up at me and when her lips meet mine again, she lets her hands find my bare back.

I don't know why, but I have this impulse and I take my hands out from her hair, tuck them under my shirt and unclasp my bra. She doesn't notice what I'm doing until I'm maneuvering it out through my sleeves. When she does, I can see her swallow hard. Her lips meet with my neck again, this time they press harder and with every one what's happening between my legs gets a little more difficult to handle. Her hands have lifted higher, high enough that her thumbs are brushing dangerously close to my breasts.

"You can touch me you know... anywhere you want," I'm baiting her. I know she won't unless we talk about things. I swear I'm not trying to be manipulative, I'm trying to keep her.

"I want to," I can feel her struggling as her breath falls heavy on my chest and her hands fall to my hips.

"So why won't you?" I husk into her ear then take the tiniest piece of skin between my teeth.

Please take this from me. Please. I am so desperate for her to say something.

"I..."

Please.

"I should probably get going."

"Stay," I know I sound desperate, but that's how I feel, "Kurt isn't coming back tonight."

"I should finish that paper and I have class tomorrow," her thumbs are digging into my hips and I can't tell if she's pushing me away or holding me down.

Why is she fighting?

Perhaps more importantly, why am I torturing myself?

"Fine," I huff and yank myself off of her. I'm far too frustrated to keep this up. In more ways than one.

"O... kay," she doesn't move and her face is covered in perplexity.

I'm not really sure what's so puzzling about this. It seems pretty cut and dry to me.

"You have to go all the way to Harlem," I say getting up and picking up our plates from the coffee table, then take them over to the sink.

"Rach...?"

I simply don't have the energy for this anymore tonight and I'm so frustrated I feel like I'm going to cry.

"It's okay, you have important things to do," I can feel the tears biting at my throat and now I wish that she would leave.

"That's not what I-"

"You can go Santana!" I snap at her. I didn't mean to and the look on her face is killing me, but her lack of effort hurts just a little bit more, "Don't forget to call me."

After that's in the air, I watch as her lips curl into each other and her eyes leave mine for the kitchen table between us. I know she's fighting off tears but she still isn't saying anything. She could say something right now and everything would be alright, but she isn't. She's picking up her jacket and walking towards the door. She doesn't even say good bye when she slides it open and walks out of it.

With tears blinding my eyes I storm over to the door and slide the pad lock into it. As soon as that's done, I turn around to go back to the sink but I can't. My back hits the door and my body slides down it to the floor.

I tried! How could she just go? I set myself up for this. I really thought things were going to be different. But she's exactly the same. Just run when the feelings are too much. And god I tried everything! I tried everything save bringing it up myself - oh my god.

Oh my god.

I'm still young and stupid.

* * *

**A/N: Eek. Guess you'll have to wait until Tuesday... or Wednesday... depends on how my week goes. Can't wait to hear from you.**

**A/N 2: Now for some fun. I hope you all enjoy this letter that I have written to my dear friend Guest. Feel free to laugh at their expense.**

Dear Guest Reviewer,

I just want to take the time to thank you. Thank you 1) for wasting your own time reading something that you didn't enjoy and 2) wasting more of your time writing a 'review.' You provided me with some traffic and a glorious laugh. I'm hoping that the contents of this little letter will also provide others with a fantastic laugh at your expense, as well.

I'm guessing that very colorful review took you anywhere between 1 and 2 minutes to type up, so for the next time decide that you want to plague a story's review box with your ugliness, I have compiled a list of things that you could do to better spend your time:

1) Find something else on this site to read.  
2) Put on some chapstick.  
3) Send a funny Snapchat.  
4) Figure out how to make a pen name.  
5) Check your email.  
6) Quote Mean Girls: "You go, Glenn Coco!"  
7) Make some emoji art on your phone.  
8) 1-2 minute dance party.  
9) Contemplate what a silly face 8) makes.  
10) Make a list of less wasteful things to do in 1-2 minutes of your life.

I really do hope this was helpful, because really, that's all I want out of life is to be helpful in some way. Since I wasn't helpful in entertaining you, I hope I have provided you with better things to do with your precious time. I personally have had a wonderful time concocting this letter to you and actually have found myself having yet another marvelous laugh. So, thank you very much again Guest. You keep being you.

Sincerely,

forrealrightnow

PS - You are still a coward. _You_ have no face. Next time, leave an email so that I can berate you personally. Smooches!


	13. Impulses

I have no idea what I'm doing right now. I'm pretty much just winging this. Then again, most of my best work has come out of me just following my impulses. The other day I was looking up fall recipes to figure out something to make for tonight. I saw this oatmeal apple pancake recipe. While that seems like a good breakfast, it wouldn't be a good dessert, like oatmeal raisin cookies... such a waste of calories. But I thought, pancakes are like the dessert of breakfast so why not make something like that? Apple cinnamon pancakes a la mode. It's really the ice cream that does it. There's no recipe for this though so I just made the batter and threw some extra sugar and cinnamon into it. I added the apples after I put the the batter on the skillet. It smells great but this could be entirely too sweet. Oh shit, I need plates. Somebody Loves You by Betty Who has been stuck in my head since I heard it through someone's headphones on the train who knows how long ago. It pauses for a second as I turn around to ask, "Where are the plates?"

I think Rachel's just been watching me this whole time. I'm not really sure why. It's not like things are all that interesting over here. She probably can't even see what I'm doing from there. With her lip between her teeth, she points to the cabinet behind me and as I'm taking a couple down she says, "I'm happy you're here."

I put down the plates and look over my shoulder, "Me too." I really am. I'm happy to be anywhere she is.

"That smells like heaven, by the way," I hear her laughing a little bit and I love how that sounds no matter what form her laughter comes in.

I start walking over to the fridge so that I can get the ice cream, "I hope it tastes like that, I kind of just made this up."

I see her roll her eyes as I head back over to the pancakes, "You made it, I'm sure it's amazing." She says that as if she's liked _everything_ I've ever made for her. As I'm scooping ice cream onto these pancakes she asks, "When have I not liked something you've made?"

I know, "I tried to recreate my tofu stir fry with eggplant and you hated it."

"It was slimy!" she's laughing and sticking her tongue out. God, she's so cute all the time.

But seriously, who is she kidding? As I'm heading back to the fridge I look at her and say, "So are mushrooms and you eat those."

I put the ice cream back and as I'm opening up the fridge to find the whipped cream that I asked Kurt to get, Rachel scoffs back at me, "Mushrooms aren't slimy." I _know_ told him not to get the kind in the can. That's all that's in here and going by its unopened status, that's the one that he got. "What are you looking for?"

"Uhh…" just grab it. Maybe she won't think about it, "got it." I smile at her with my lips together before I pull the can out of the fridge. Legitimately all that I can think about is her birthday. Like, there are images of the things we did just going through my brain like a slide show. "Mushrooms are gross," I need to cover this up somehow… I'm not ready… not yet, "They're a fungus that grow in the woods. Animals shit in the woods."

Fuck. I have to open this thing and use it. It makes a very distinct sound and the movie going on in my head isn't going to get easier. Just do it. Once I'm done, I immediately turn around with the plates and say, "All done."

"Come on," she gets up and nods her head to the couch that has probably seen better days, but it fits in her and Kurt's apartment perfectly, "we have cable."

Good one, Rach, good one. I look around a little before I sit down and as I do, I say what I'm really feeling, you know, besides what I'm really feeling, "I really like your place." Okay, I'm not so sure I like that her room's only privacy is a curtain, but I do like the sliding door and the way that everything looks. Yup, I was just thinking about her bedroom's lack of privacy…

"Thanks," she replies after she's chosen something on TV and has sat down, "Are you waiting for me?"

I haven't touched mine yet. I am waiting for her. I want to know what she thinks first, "Maybe."

She kind of half rolls her eyes and breathes a laugh through her nose before directing her attention to her plate. My lip is nervously hanging out between my teeth as she cuts into the pancake and ice cream and as the fork heads to her mouth. Then, "Oh my god! You just made this up?" I don't think she's even swallowed yet.

"It isn't too sweet?" I ask because I'm still worried about that. I guess I could figure that out on my own now, couldn't I?

"No! It's perfect!" she keeps eating as she's talking and for some reason, it is so adorable, "I think it's because the apples are fresh, they balance out the batter. San, this is amazing."

She's moaning. On the list of things that I cannot handle, that is one of them. I mean, there might be a time when I'll be able to, but right now, not so much. Think about something else, "I saved the rest of the batter and I can write down how to cook them. When I told Kurt what I was making he told me to save him some."

"Of course he did," she laughs with her mouth full.

I take a few more bites of mine and enjoy this new masterpiece for a little before _I_ start talking with my mouthful, "You know," I point at the TV that's playing Never Been Kissed, "This is one of my favorites."

"Because you love romantic comedies. I know and your secret has remained safe with me," she gives me this playful eye roll then goes back to her plate.

"Thank god!" I joke back with some fake worry, "I don't know what I'd do if people found out!"

With her head still over her plate she asks, "Remember when we ran into Mr. Schue and Miss Pillsbury at the movies?"

Of course I do! "I thought Miss Pillsbury was going to pass out she was so worried," I say as I put my empty plate down on the coffee table.

Of course I remember that day. I couldn't possibly forget the moment that I knew I was in love with her. Maybe I can take this in baby steps. Talk about something good before I get into the bad and the ugly.

"I was so nervous," she leans forward to put her plate down, "I couldn't let go of your hand and then they figured us out, so we were even."

"That," I start before I'm ready and my lip finds its place between my teeth. I can see her waiting for what I'm going to say and now that I've started I have to say it, I can't go back. This is something good. I _should_ tell her this. I take a deep breath and, "I knew I was in love with you that night."

Combine the sensation of my heart pounding and my nerves from saying that to her, with every other sensation that runs through me when she kisses me and I'm left with one out of control body. Then, put her on top of me, straddling my lap and I feel like I should be useless, but I'm not. My tongue still knows what it's doing and I can think enough to do that little trick that she seems to love. I even grow a little bold and move away from her lips. I kiss my way over to the spot that I always loved. I probably shouldn't have, but this time I just couldn't help it. I know that I sighed against her when I smelled her hair. I can't leave any marks, she doesn't have to tell me that, so I only suck lightly and for a very short period of time before I move my way down to her collar bone. As that happens, my hands inch up and I'm feeling skin instead of jeans. It actually makes me nervous.

"It's okay," she whispers, coaxing me with her hands in my hair.

It is okay. Touching her skin doesn't mean we'll take things too far. I look up and bring my lips to hers again as my hands move up on her back. Her skin feels so good. Maybe I could talk about this… so I can touch more. Just… what do I say? Suddenly I feel her arms moving and when I open my eyes, I see her bra coming out of her sleeve. What is she doing? Ugh! Think! Think of something! I'm just pressing my lips to her neck over and over and harder each time as I attempt to formulate something. In the meantime, somehow my hands have gotten even higher and I can feel a curve of something under my thumbs.

"You can touch me you know… anywhere you want."

I hear those words and my brain stops. I'm still looking at her neck as I say, "I want to…"

"So why won't you?" I can hear the lust around her words and her teeth on my ear don't help anything.

"I…"

I can't do it. I know nothing isn't the answer, but that's all I have. I don't know where to start.

"I should probably get going."

"Stay."

I could. I could stay all night and try to think of the best thing to say.

"I should finish that paper and I have class tomorrow," I know that's what has come out of my mouth, but my hands are gripping at her hips attempting to keep her as close to me as possible.

"Fine," she huffs pulls herself away so that she's no longer on top of me.

While I was expecting her to be disappointed, I'm not so sure I was expecting this, "O… kay."

Rachel gets up and grabs our plates, "You have to go all the way to Harlem."

As she's storming over to the sink all I can get out is, "Rach…?"

"It's okay, you have important things to do," she turns from the sink then turns right back to it.

Now things are getting desperate for me, she thinks I'm choosing a paper that I still have time to write over her, "That's not what I-"

"You can go Santana!" she snaps as she whips back around from the sink. Then her eyes zero in on me and she spits, "Don't forget to call me."

I might have deserved that, but she didn't have to say it. It hurts so much that I can't even respond. All I can do is bite my lips between my teeth and lower my eyes away from her. I can't say anything. I can't even say goodbye to her as I slide open the door and leave. I hear her footsteps on the other side of it and then I hear metal sliding against metal. She locked me out.

You know what the worst part about this is? It's my own fault. I've completely fucked everything up again. Before I can even get to the stairs to take me the one flight down, I start crying. I can't even see to go down them so I just sit at the top.

I had her! She's right fucking there and it was so easy to fall for her again! I told her that I'd fight for her. I don't even know what I'm fighting. All I know is that I'm losing - if I haven't already lost. I just can't even get out of my own fucking way…

It's me. It's been me all this time. I'm what I'm up against.

When did I start burying my impulses? I said it earlier, "Some of my best work has come out of me following my impulses." It's true, not just in cooking, but in my life. When did I stop saying what I felt to the people that I care about?

When I blocked people out and forgot that the world was still turning.

I think it's about time I dug up those impulses.

There's one now.

I'm knocking on Rachel's door and I'm not stopping until she opens it and when she does, I'm doing the first thing that my gut tells me to do.

Now get up off of your ass and fight for her. Even if what your fighting is yourself.

I pick up my jacket and myself off of the step. As I'm walking back towards her door, I wipe at the bottom of my eyes and hope that my mascara hasn't run all that much. Okay maybe I should check. I stop for a second just to pull out my phone to see. Just a little mess. Easily fixed in a couple seconds and I'm taking the last few steps. I'm determined to do this… I just need a couple seconds to work up the first knock. Yeah, maybe like, ten more seconds. Okay…

Just… umm…

One more…

I close my eyes and lift up my hand, pausing it for another second or two. Just as I'm finally about to send my hand forward, I hear something and it doesn't stop. When I open my eyes, there's Rachel standing directly in front of me. We stand there, staring at each other for what feels like a lifetime and with every breath I take I can feel the tension between us thickening. Suddenly she opens her mouth and starts to say, "I'm-"

Impulses.

They told me to drop my jacket, grab her face and kiss her. Kiss her so that she doesn't keep talking because that's why I came back. I came back because I have to say something. And here it comes, another impulse:

"I love you."

Kiss her again.

"I love you and I don't want to lose you again. I can't lose you again," I kiss her again because she looks like she's going to say something, "I still don't know what to say, but I know that nothing is wrong," I finally know it, "I'm here and I'm acknowledging what happened between us. I'm sorry if that isn't enough but it's all I have and it's way more than last time."

"That's all I wanted," she breathes and then pulls on my hips to bring me in to kiss her. I know I heard tears in her voice. "I love you," she stops kissing me long enough to say it and long enough for me to know that those are happy tears. I know what those look like. "I'm so sorry," she sniffles and brings her hand to my cheek to wipe the tear that's fallen from my eye. She told me she loves me, how could one of those happy tears not fall? "I shouldn't have said that."

I smile and send a laugh through my nose, "Precedence says that it was deserved." I'm glad I've found a use for that word outside of my pre-law classes.

"No," she says bringing her hand back down to my hip and tugging me impossibly closer to her, "That's not what I should have said..."

"Rach..."

She's pressed her forehead to mine and she's looking down. She's formulating something; I can practically feel her brain churning to find the right words. I know I should wait for what she has to say but I can't, "Beautiful, it's okay-"

"No it isn't!" she pulls her head back to look me in the eyes, "I'm so awful! I was baiting you to talk about... I shouldn't be manipulating you. You should be angry with me, not the other way around."

"You have every right to protect yourself. I hurt you-"

"We hurt each other," she interrupts me softly, closing her eyes once the words are out.

How can she say that? I caused so much damage. Yes, it hurt that she seemed to be looking right through me whenever she looked at me and it hurt that she found someone else before things actually ended between us, but I caused her so much pain for so long. "Rach, don't-"

"I gave up," she interrupts me more forcefully this time, "You were right, I let you keep to yourself. I called you and I texted you, but I never showed up at your house. I knew where you lived!"

There go those happy tears, "Rachel, please-"

"Santana, I need to say this!" she takes a step back so that my hands slip from her shoulders and her hands leave me hips. Okay, I'll keep my mouth shut. "I had a chance to end it all, that first time I saw you in school. All I wanted to do was walk up to you kiss you. I knew it wouldn't make your pain go away, but it's what I wanted to do. It's all I wanted to do all that time. I should have just let my impatience get the best of me. I can't help but think that if I'd done that, maybe this wouldn't be happening. Maybe we would have been together all this time."

Now she's on the verge of hysterically crying. I need her to stop. I need her to know that I don't blame her for anything.

"Rachel," I surround her face with my hands so that she'll look at me, "_I_ should have said something to you instead of just standing there wishing I knew what to say to you. I honestly can't tell you why, because how many times have sounded like an idiot and you've loved me just the same?"

Her cheeks rise under my palms and she laughs, "A lot."

"Exactly," I smile back.

"But I know I hurt you..."

She did, and I don't think she's going to let this go until I say it. "You did," I sigh and somehow, it actually feels good to say it.

"I'm sorry," I can hear tears coming again, "I'm sorry that I broke your heart."

"At least you did it quick," here go those impulses, "I bent yours for two months and then made you snap it apart." That doesn't hurt any less than it did when I realized it the first time two years ago. I was so awful, I can't believe I'm standing here in front of her right now. "I'm so sorry," I can't stop the tears, "I don't even know how you could give me a second chance."

"You're giving me one," she's says it as if that's her answer. That's her reasoning for all of this. It seems so ridiculous to me, but I guess in her eyes, I have given her a second chance. "Maybe we could start over," she says quickly. She says it so quickly that I don't believe that's something she actually wants.

That is the absolute last thing I want to do.

"I don't want that and I don't think you do either," I say taking a step forward into her apartment a little more.

"I don't," she sighs and looks down.

"We were something," I smile and look down with her, but I take her hand, "I can't just ignore that, not when there was so much more good than bad. And maybe…" let me take a second to make sure this is right, "Maybe things happened the way they did for a reason. Maybe that had to happen so we could be where we are now."

"I hadn't thought about that…"

"What if we'd stayed together? Maybe you wouldn't be in Funny Girl right now? And maybe I wouldn't be going to Columbia?" I really believe all of this, "Rach, I think we're who we are right now because of what happened back then."

"I guess our love story is shaping up to be quite interesting," she smiles this adorable half smile at me while she swings out our hands.

"And we have so much time ahead of us to make it even more interesting," that was kind of impulsive, but I liked it and I think Rachel did too because she's still smiling.

"So," she starts without looking up from our hands, "how about we start again?" Now she looks up and I do with her.

I like that. Again.

"That sounds perfect," I smile and sniffle at the same time. So much for fixing my mascara.

"Do you wanna come in?" she nibbles on her lip then looks around me.

I'm only about a step into her apartment and my jacket is in the hallway. "Yes," I nod then pick up my jacket.

Rachel lets me pass through the doorway then slides the door closed. I turn around and wait for her once I'm a few steps in. I see her turn something on the on the door. "What's that?" I ask because I think it's a lock, but I'm really not sure… since she dropped the pad lock into it earlier.

"It's the lock for when no one is in the apartment," she says then turns back to me. She looks me up and down and I feel my stomach drop. I don't have to ask her what that means. I mean, I think we still have some talking to do, but there could be something else… "I love that jacket," she says pointing to it in my hand.

"I noticed," I smirk and then point at her, "I love all those v-necks you wear the hell out of."

"I noticed," she says back in an attempted smirk that turns into a blushing smile, "I love you."

I could listen to her say that all night, "I love you more."

She squints one of her eyes at me and takes a couple steps closer, "Don't start that. We could be standing here all night."

It was worth a shot.

"You know," I say putting my jacket down on a chair behind me then taking her hands, "I think technically, we've already started again."

"We have, haven't we?" she looks up from our hands and lets her lips slip between her teeth, "How long would you say we've been _dating_?"

"Hmmm…" I hum with a 'thinking face,' "About a month. Unless you include all of our chaperoned ones, then two."

Rachel looks up like she's thinking then says, "Let's say a month and a half."

"Okay."

"Would you say that's enough time to… um…" she was really confident up until this point.

"To what?" I rub my thumbs on the back of her hands.

She licks her lips then looks down again, "Spend the night?" She looks back up quickly, then down again, "We don't have to do anything. We could talk some more… or you know… not," she looks back up and bites down on her lip.

I definitely want to, to do whatever, but I do still have class in the morning. Who am I kidding? I want to stay here. "I'd have to leave pretty early in the morning for class."

"That's okay," she swings our hands and bounces on her toes. I can't help the laugh that comes out. I can't help it when I pull on her hands so that she's even closer to me and so that I can kiss her either. "Umm…" she starts after she breaks the kiss, "maybe we could talk a little."

"Anything you want," I answer automatically, because like always, I will do anything for her.

"Okay," she takes a step back, "can we sit down?"

"Um, Rach. It's your apartment," I laugh, "You can do whatever you want."

"Oh yeah," she rolls her eyes then walks past me to sit at the table. I turn around and move my jacket so that I can sit in the chair next to her. Her table is about as small as mine so our knees are touching.

"What do you want to talk about?" I ask after we've been sitting in silence for a good thirty seconds.

"The last two years."

"Are you sure?" I ask only because I'm not sure _I_ want to talk about the last two years. I know what she means by the last two years. She nods. Here it goes, "What do you want to know?" I am wincing on the inside.

"Well… I know that you and Brittany were… um hooking up…"

"Rach, why do you want to know this?" I'm not asking because I don't want to answer, I genuinely want to know why she wants to know this.

"Because," she winces a little, "I think it will make me feel better about being with other girls… not in the last two months." I think I my eyes might have widened a little when she said that first part. Thanks, Q.

Anyways, for some reason, I actually think this is really cute. Her reasoning behind asking. Of course she was other girls. I can not like it all I want, but I can't be angry or jealous. Besides, that would be hypocritical. "I've had one not-so-serious girlfriend, one sort of serious girlfriend and a couple hook-ups. That's it," I hope that was enough. I _really_ don't want to get into detail.

"Sort of serious?"

I tried.

I let out a heavy breath, then settle on what I want to say, "I guess it was pretty serious. I mean, we did…" never mind, tmi, "Something just didn't feel right, like there was something missing."

"I think I know what that feels like," she says as she looks at the table and draws circles with her finger tip.

"Did you sleep with Bailey?"

Where the fuck did that come from? Shut up impulses! Shut the fuck up! Just because I want to know doesn't mean I can just blurt it out like that!

Okay, damage control! "I didn't-"

"Yes."

Okay, maybe I didn't want to know… except… "When?" Wait what am I even asking? "I don't think that you cheated on me." Well, here I go saying all of those stupid things. I'm just going to rest my face in my hands for a little bit.

"She was a rebound. I know she was… I hurt her, too," she rolls her eyes and shakes her head at herself, "there was a girl at Pace… aaaand two of the ensemble girls."

"Whaaaat?" I'm actually just shocked that she hooked up with people she works with, not that she slept with other girls.

"They pursued me!" she throws her hands up in defense… as if that defense makes it better, "It was when we were in DC. We all went out one night and they-"

"They? As in together?" this just keeps getting better. I'm not even jealous! I'm strangely intrigued by what she's telling me… not that I'd want to share her ever.

"Um," I see her visibly gulp, "the first time it was both of them. It was um, a lot happening. It was good," that might be too much for me to know, "But it was too much, which is why I only went back for one of them."

"Who is it?" I ask because now I've seen the show three times, I'm sure I know who this girl is… I bet I've met this girl.

"Really?" she grits her teeth at me awkwardly.

"Well, what if she tries something? I need to know," I say only half joking.

She lets out a long sigh then says, "Whitney."

"The red head?" the really hot red head with crazy green eyes… that I'm going to ignore.

"Mhm… hey I have a question. A completely unrelated, but kind of actually completely related question," she says changing the subject but perhaps not changing the subject with a perfectly Rachel sentence.

"Uuuhhh… okay? Go for it," I laugh out.

"Umm do you have the strap on?"

As I burst out laughing I ask, "What?"

She's right, that is completely unrelated but sort of completely related.

"I couldn't find it!" she's laughing with me.

Funny story about that, "I did have it. When we um…" okay now my laughter is gone, "took my stuff, Papá must have grabbed the shoe box. I don't think he looked in it or anything, but I had it. I think it must have gotten lost in the big move here though… which is actually a little terrifying now that I think about."

"The cards," her hand goes to her mouth, then short bursts of laughter come through her nose until she's full out laughing again.

"Oh my god imagine someone finding that!"

"I can't!" she laughs even harder and somehow her hand lands on top of mine on the table.

It's crazy how something as simple as a small touch can change a moment.

I move my hand under hers so that I can interlock our fingers. I just keep looking at them together. They just fit so well.

"See?" I say picking up our hands, "We couldn't have started over." I bring the back of her hand to my lips and kiss it, then keep them there for a few more seconds.

"M m," she hums out her agreement then her eyes fall to my lips. As soon as they're there I feel my stomach flare up with excitement and nerves. "I don't want to talk anymore," she says as her other hand reaches my cheek and she moves her head towards me.

Oh god neither do I. I'm going to be really blunt, this kiss has gone straight between my legs. Not like, she's going down on me… oh god, now things are worse… I mean, of course I felt this before, but now that cloud isn't here. And she feels… hungry. And god, why is this table still between us? I can't stop kissing her. Her tongue and her teeth are just… it's getting hot. I just stand up, without taking my mouth away from hers. I think the chair fell. Rachel's laughing, it must have.

We stop making out long enough to move away from the table, but that's it. We're back after two steps and now that I can, I can't keep my hands off of her. They're in her shirt and lifting up. Rachel moans into my mouth as I'm reminded that she took her bra off.

I'm also reminded that she said I could touch her… anywhere I want. I have a feeling that the offer still stands. Truth is, I want to touch her everywhere. Now.

But we have all night.

As my hands slide to her front, hers find their way under my shirt. I think somehow I'd forgotten she has hands. They feel so good on me.

I move from her lips and make way over to my favorite place. Before I start using my lips there, I make sure she knows, "Anywhere you want."

"How about any_thing_?" she pants out as I suck behind her ear.

As I finally move my hands up to cup her breasts, I breathe out, "Please do."

Suddenly her hands aren't in my shirt anymore and I immediately whine a little against her skin, but then I feel her shirt moving along my arms. When I back my head away to see what's happening, her shirt passes over her head and onto the floor. I know I'm staring. I can't help it. Those abs I was talking about not that long ago, yeah, exactly what I thought… only better. No lie, I just want to lick them.

"I felt like it was getting hot," Rachel says as she tugs on the bottom of my shirt.

"It is," I say with my drying mouth. I can't close it and my eyes just keep going from her abs to her breasts over and over.

"Can I take this off?"

"What?" oh my shirt. Uh… duh, "Yes!" I answer and my hands join hers in pulling my shirt over my head.

"How about that?" she looks down at my chest and then back up at me.

"Absolutely," I pretty much moan out because she didn't really wait for my answer. She just stepped up to me, started kissing my shoulder and reached behind me. "You know," I start when my eyes land on the curtain that hides her bed, "You haven't showed me your room… outside of a webcam."

After she's gotten my bra off my arms, she tosses it somewhere in the apartment then lets her arms drape over my shoulders. I can feel my nipples rubbing against her skin and hers on mine with each ragged breath we take. It would be nice if we took this to her bed soon. Things are starting to get painful down under.

"I was going to just take you on the couch, but I guess I do have a roommate or something," she shrugs, then turns us both around so that she can walk forward towards her room.

Oh. My. God.

As she's backing me up, my hands go for her jeans. I know I said we have all night, but I've been… we've been waiting long enough for this. I also manage to somehow kick my shoes off and out of the way so that we don't trip. Once we're past the curtain, I take things over, turning her around so that I can push her on the bed. And like I said, I just want to lick her abs, so as I pull off her jeans, I just do it.

"Rach, these are…" I can't even finish it.

She sits up when I take slight break and says, "Yours are still perfect," as she unbuttons my jeans and tugs them off of me. Then she starts kissing my stomach as her hands slide up the back of my thighs and land on my butt.

"Ay querida," it just falls out of my mouth. I know it's been a long time, but it still feels so similar. This all feels so new, but she knows what to do to make me want her even more.

And I know what to do to her.

I know what I _want_ to do to her.

It makes me nervous thinking about doing it to her… actually, doing anything to her makes me nervous. It's like, a second first time. This is completely different than our actual first time. I _know_ Rachel is experienced now, but this time, I also know how absolutely in love with her I am.

"Lie down," I whisper and nudge her with my hands on her shoulders. She quirks up an eyebrow at me, but does it and as she does, I let my hands trail down her chest. Then, I settle myself between her legs, lower myself and kiss where my hands just were, moving my way down to her breasts. Her skin tastes so good. It's sweet, but she's started to sweat just a little so it's just a little salty. I kiss to my right and suck her nipple between my lips.

"God, you're so good at that," she says as her hips writhe under me.

As I'm working on her other nipple, I feel her hand push down on my head. "Someone's still impatient," I say then look up at her as I flick my tongue up and down over her nipple.

"I'm just…" she lets out a heavy breath as I grind down between her legs, "…remembering how good you are at something else."

"Well, maybe I should take these off of you then," I drag my fingers down over her abs to her hips and hook my finger into her underwear. She immediately lifts her hips and brings her legs together so that I can slide them off. That's different.

"What?" Rachel looks down at me and I can see that she's nervous. She really doesn't have to be though, so I smile, then smirk as I look between her legs. "Oh… it hurts like a bitch but it's so much easier than shaving."

I kiss her at the apex where her thighs meet, then look up at her and say, "I know exactly how you feel." She laughs, but as she does I start licking her skin and she stifles it completely. She is so wet. It's everywhere and she tastes just like I remember her.

"You're such a tease," she whines and moans simultaneously.

I know she really does like to it, no matter how much she whines about it, but I want to get to it. I can feel my heart beating a little faster as I get closer. One more lick down around her, then I dip my tongue inside of her.

She pants out a breath then, "I missed you," falls from her mouth.

I missed her, too. Everything. Her sounds, her skin, her taste, the way she moves, her confidence. Just… everything.

As if to answer her, I bring my tongue up her length to her clit and circle it a couple of times. I hear the "fuck" get breathed out then I suck it between my lips. "San!" then I hear a squeak and then nothing.

"That was-"

"Embarrassing," her hands are up at her face covering it up.

"What? No!" I crawl up on top of her and hope that she'll take her hands off of her face. Actually, that was awesome.

"It is!" she says into her hands.

"Babe, no. Hey," I gently pull her hands off of her face. Her expression at the moment is caught somewhere between embarrassed and excited… of course it's adorable. I don't really understand why she's embarrassed though. So she came _really_ fast, guess what? "I'm so turned on right now, I bet you'd barely have to do anything to me either."

And there goes the embarrassed and the excited. "I could find out," she says sitting up and forcing me to be straight up on my knees. "Ugh, you're still wearing these," she snaps the waist band of my underwear. I can fix that. I get up off of her and take them off. "Now come back here," she smirks at me and of course I follow her command. She wastes no time putting her hand between us and as her fingers move slowly from entrance to my clit she asks, "How long do you think this will take?"

Not long, "Fuck," it's only been a couple circles and I'm already… there, "Rach!" Okay, so maybe that is a little embarrassing. I drop my forehead to hers as she's giggling and say, "I missed you, too." Her giggling stopped immediately and her lips were on mine. Like no time had passed, we moved in sync to further onto her bed. As we're moving, she manages to push and turn me onto my back. She's a little stronger than she used to be. I must look surprised because she's giggling again. I love that. That she's laughing during all of this. It feels so much more intimate. I can't help but tell her, "I love you."

"I love you more…" her nose brushes against mine and her hand starts trailing down.

My breath hitches as her fingers find their way back between my legs but I still manage to breathlessly say, "We could be here all night."

"Oh no," she teases in her voice and with her fingers, "you've discovered my plan."

I just want to touch her, make her feel what she's doing to me. I know we have all night and every other night ahead of us, but I still feel like I've missed so much of her. When she enters me, all I want is to do the same to her. I need to feel her. She's on my right leg and using her right hand. I could use my right but it just isn't as good as my left. "I can't get to you," I breathe out as her fingers slowly stroke my insides.

She looks down at my right hand with a quirked eyebrow, then over to my left that's been gripping onto her wrist. "Oh," she whispers then starts to pull out of me.

"Don't leave!"

I know I said it so that she would stay inside of me, but once it's out there, I know I mean so much more than that.

I think she heard it. She leans down and kisses me so softly then says just soft, "I'm not going anywhere."

Here comes one of those impulses: "I am so in love with you. More than ever before."

"I've been thinking the same exact thing about you," she smiles and kisses me again, "I have an idea."

"I love when you have ideas," my lips tug into a smirk.

"Don't move, I don't want to hurt you."

I know what she meant, but I can't help but hear its second meaning. I nod to her and after I do, she makes a little adjustment to her left, then without moving her right hand from me, she tucks her right leg between her arm and my leg and swings it slowly over me so that her arm is behind her and both of her legs are straddling my hips. "Thank you yoga."

"Uh yeah," I say from my dumbfounded gaze at her hips.

"Well," her impatience shines through as she grinds herself down on my stomach, letting me know just how ready she still is.

I know my hand will be sore after this, but I really don't care. Seeing her right in front of me like this makes me want to taste her again. That's physically impossible. I'll just be doing that again later, for much longer than before.

"San," she grinds down on me again and whines, "I need you."

Well, when she puts it that way...

"Yes," she hisses as my two middle fingers slide down from her clit to her entrance. Because of the angle my hand is positioned in, my fingers automatically curl into her. "You feel so good," she moans out as she turns her hips _and _pushes her fingers into me.

I almost can't even function. What's happening in front of me and to me is just... at least I've thought enough to make sure that my palm is against her clit.

"San," she's still moaning. I look up at her and when we make eye contact she says, "I love you."

I think that was her romantic way of telling me to fuck her. I think I could oblige.

"I love you," I say back as my free hand moves to hold down her hip. I can't really move mine, I need some kind of leverage. Once that's settled, I push deeper into her and press my palm harder against her. Just as I start to move my hand, I feel her fingers curl and her thumb press against my clit. "Fuuuhhck," some things don't change. I really just can't control the obscenities.

We still know how to listen to each other and feel when to put a little more into it. It's like, we know how to tell each other what we want without saying anything. To know someone that well, it's beautiful... and mind-blowing. She doesn't even have to tell me that she's close, I can feel it because I'm close. I push harder into her because I want her to do the same. When she does the same, I know it's coming and I can see it in her face. Her left hand had been on my abs and as we've gotten closer, her finger tips have been pulsing there faster and faster. Suddenly, I feel it; that feeling in the pit of stomach tugging away and as soon as I hear Rachel gasp out, "San!" then squeak, it tears away and I'm yelling out her name.

"Oh my god, San, I'm so sorry," I feel Rachel's fingers moving down from my chest in a half circle around my sternum. I open my eyes and I'm met with a worried look aimed at my torso.

"What?" I look down my chest and then her fingers ease over what she'd been dancing around, "Ow." Well, that stings. She must have scratched me. "It's okay," I say looking up from the violent red stripes at the top of my abs, "Any day I will gladly take injury from you in our throes of passion."

She bites down in her lip and chuckles lightly, "we've both done our fair share of limping haven't we?"

"Mhm," I hum out in agreement as she pulls her fingers out of me. I start to remember a time when I limped an entire day through school, but my mind goes blank when Rachel draws her fingers into her mouth, sucking her fingers clean. Before my brain can even establish anything, she's lifted herself off of my hand and positioned herself so that she's lying partially on top of me.

"My favorite kind of Rachel Blanket," I sigh and turn my head to kiss her forehead. I stay there with my nose and my lips against her skin just relishing in the smell and the feel of it all.

"No one's as good as you," she says as she nuzzles her nose into my neck.

It feels so good to hear her say that to me and I feel the same exact way about her. "I think it's the whole, in love with thing," I let my thoughts slip right out, "it just magnifies everything."

"Yeah," she sighs as her fingertips stroke up and down my arm, "that sounds about right."

For a while we just lie in comfortable silence. Our fingers explore around each other and every once in a while a kiss is placed somewhere. After a little bit longer, Rachel places a kiss on my chest then says, "You know I'm not done with you yet, right?"

I laugh and kiss her forehead, "Well, even if you were, I'm not done with you yet, either!"

~:~:~

"San, sweetheart, wake up."

"Mm... Rach I can't, she's tired," I whine and turn my head. That's really all I can do since she's on top of me.

"No," she laughs as she peppers kisses on my shoulder and chest, "it's 7:30... and Monday."

"Wait, what?" I start to push up but it only reinforces the fact that Rachel is naked and on top of me. I really don't want to leave here, "I haven't used any of my absences yet."

"I'm not going to try to change your mind, but are you sure?" she asks and I love her for it. We're both pretty driven and I know she'd understand if I did want to go.

But I don't. "I'm exactly where I want to be right now," I kiss her forehead, "I can't make a habit of skipping class to stay in bed with you, but I can definitely do it today."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, beautiful."

"Um... I have a question," she says a little nervously with he fingers dancing on my chest.

"Ask away."

"So I have this thing... a gala... that I was invited to and I have a plus one. Um... will you go with me?"

"Absolutely," I say with a giant smile.

"Okay," I feel her smile against my shoulder, "And if someone-"

She's interrupted by the sound of the door sliding open and after a few seconds we hear a screechy, "OH. MY. GOD. FINALLY!"

Rachel and I are just laughing silently. We left a mess out there. Our clothes are everywhere and I never picked up the chair that I knocked over.

"Don't worry! I'll be gone in a minute," Kurt calls to us from who knows where in the place, "I'm just grabbing some things before class." After about five minutes of us still laughing to ourselves, Rachel leaving kisses on my chest and butterflies in my stomach and Kurt shuffling around the apartment, the door slides open again and Kurt says, "Bye ladies! Can't wait to hear all about it Rach!"

"Bye, Kurt. Thank you!" Rachel calls out to him because it was rude not to say anything.

The last thing we hear is laughter and the door sliding again.

"Well, that'll probably make the rounds pretty quickly," I laugh and then remember that Rachel was asking me something else and I think I know what, "if someone, what?"

"If someone asks who the beautiful woman I'm with is," she looks up at me and smiles, "Can I tell them you're my girlfriend?"

"Yes…" I say holding out the s.

"Why am I sensing a 'but' after that yes?" she squints one of her eyes at me and twists her lips.

"On one condition…"

"I waited long enough already," she huffs adorably.

"No," I laugh, "not that. Yeah right."

"Okay, so… what?" she asks more sweetly this time because I think she's realized that I'm not really joking around with her.

I chew on the corner of my lip a little and breathe through the tiny nerves I'm feeling, "Don't let me get lost."

Her lip quivers a little, then a smile fights through as a tear falls down her cheek onto my chest, "I am never losing you again."

There aren't any perfect words for this moment. Really. My entire body is filled with so many emotions, it's entirely inexplicable. The only option I have is an action and the hope that she feels every inch of what I'm feeling within it. My hand lifts to her cheek and I take in the beautiful and vulnerable face in front of me. Then I kiss her. I kiss her with everything I have, pouring every last millimeter of myself into her.

I need her to know that she's my absolute, she's everything. I need her to know that if my entire world came crashing down around me, she'd be my savior. I need her to know that I will spend my entire life fighting to keep her within it because without her, I will certainly be lost.

I'm so desperate for her to understand everything that my lips and my hands grasp harder. My entire body needs her to understand and it coaxes her even further on top of me so that it can be _even_ closer to her. It's then that I start to feel her melting into me. And it's then, when our bodies are melded together that I feel her hearing me, that she's listened and she believes me.

The elation that washes over me is the most overwhelming sensation I have ever experienced. It's this full body high that is so overpowering the only way my body can react is to laugh… and cry.

"Santana?" I feel her wiping at my tears with her thumb. Her voice and her touch will my eyes open and as I look into her deep brown eyes, I feel lost in both them and all of my vulnerability. The vulnerability I feel is only heightened by the fact that I can't read her expression. I see joy in her eyes but there's something else, something I've never seen before and that's what scares me.

"Yes?" I answer her finally, unable to take the palpability of the air that we're sharing.

Rachel takes a breath of the weighty air between us, then her lips curl up and her eyes soften and light up simultaneously. It is hands down the most breathtaking image to ever pass through my eyes. She takes another breath, opens her mouth and says, "That was the most beautiful thing that has ever been said to me."

There are tears welling in her eyes and as soon as one falls, my hand is on her cheek to catch it, "I meant it. Everything. With all that I have." I say it and I can feel tears coming yet again.

"I know, my love, I know."

"That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," I laugh and sniffle at the same time, "I love you."

"I love you."

"Umm… Rach?" I've just thought of something.

"Yes, love?"

After taking a second to revel in how that sounds, "I think we did things out of order again."

"Eh," she shrugs then brushes her nose against mine, "unconventional is kind of our thing."

~:~:~

* * *

**A/N: Yes, this is the end... sort of. I have an epilogue in the works, but I said that it's complete anyways... because this _is_ the end.**

**A/N 2: Thank you everyone for your kind words and all of your frustrations that you let out in the reviews. I loved every one of them. Especially all of the anger from the last chapter. I felt like I was tremendously successful. I hope you've enjoyed this last chapter here; I worked pretty damn hard on this one. I also think this is my favorite of the series. I've grown a lot as a writer since that first one and I think this shows it. I also found myself drawing from personal experience more than ever with this one so it sits pretty near and dear to my heart in that way.**

**A/N 3: As per usual, a thanks to my StageMom. For reading every grossly unedited version of every chapter and convincing me that Rachel's POV was totally necessary in the second part. Chapter 10 never would have happened and 12 wouldn't have been in her voice. So, go ahead and thank her in the reviews. She'd be the unhappiest camper if I gave you her pen name.**


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